These were practical men from the county of Durham, whom he had ferreted out by means of an agent, men who knew a great deal about coal.

They had already surveyed the farm, and confirmed Hope's opinion that coal lay below the surface of certain barren fields, and the question now was as to the exact spot where it would be advisable to sink the first shaft.
Bartley was heart and soul in this, and elevated by love of gain far above such puny considerations as the happiness of Mary Bartley and her lover.

She, poor girl, sat forlorn in her little drawing-room, and tried to draw a bit, and tried to read a bit, and tried to reconcile a new German symphony to her ear as well as to her judgment, which told her it was too learned not to be harmonious, though it sounded very discordant.
But all these efforts ended in a sigh of despondency, and in brooding on innocent delights forbidden, and a prospect which, to her youth and inexperience, seemed a wilderness robbed of the sun.
Whilst she sat thus pensive and sad there came a sudden rush and clatter of hoofs, and Miss Clifford and Walter Clifford reined up their horses under the very window.
Mary started up delighted at the bare sight of Walter, but amazed and puzzled.

The next moment her quick intelligence told her this was some daring manoeuvre or other, and her heart beat high.
Walter opened the door and stood beside it, affecting a cold ceremony.
"Miss Bartley, I have brought Miss Clifford to call on you at her request.

My own visit is to your father.