| CHAPTER | PAGE | |
| I. | A Pair of Brown Eyes | [5] |
| II. | Claire | [13] |
| III. | Something Wrong at the Farm | [18] |
| IV. | Claire’s Apology | [21] |
| V. | Bram’s Rise in Life | [31] |
| VI. | Mr. Biron’s Condescension | [38] |
| VII. | Bram’s Dismissal | [46] |
| VIII. | Another Step Upward | [54] |
| IX. | A Call and a Dinner Party | [61] |
| X. | The Fine Eyes of her Cashbox | [70] |
| XI. | Bram Shows Himself in a New Light | [80] |
| XII. | A Model Father | [86] |
| XIII. | An Ill-matched Pair | [102] |
| XIV. | The Deluge | [111] |
| XV. | Parent and Lover | [118] |
| XVI. | The Pangs of Despised Love | [126] |
| XVII. | Bram Speaks his Mind | [134] |
| XVIII. | Face to Face | [143] |
| XIX. | Sanctuary | [151] |
| XX. | The Furnace Fires | [159] |
| XXI. | The Fire Goes Out | [168] |
| XXII. | Claire’s Confession | [173] |
| XXIII. | Father and Daughter | [184] |
| XXIV. | Mr. Biron’s Repentance | [190] |
| XXV. | Meg | [200] |
| XXVI. | The Goal Reached | [206] |
FORGE AND FURNACE;
THE ROMANCE OF A SHEFFIELD BLADE.
CHAPTER I. A PAIR OF BROWN EYES.
Thud, thud. Amidst a shower of hot, yellow sparks the steam hammer came down on the glowing steel, shaking the ground under the feet of the master of the works and his son, who stood just outside the shed. In the full blaze of the August sunshine, which was, however, tempered by such clouds of murky smoke as only Sheffield can boast, old Mr. Cornthwaite, acclimatized for many a year to heat and to coal dust, stood quite unconcerned.
Tall, thin, without an ounce of superfluous flesh on his bones, with a fresh-colored face which seemed to look the younger and the handsomer for the silver whiteness of his hair and of his long, silky moustache, Josiah Cornthwaite’s was a figure which would have arrested attention anywhere, but which was especially noticeable for the striking contrast he made to the rough-looking Yorkshiremen at work around him.
Like a swarm of demons on the shores of Styx, they moved about, haggard, gaunt, uncouth figures, silent amidst the roar of the furnaces and the whirr of the wheels, lifting the bars of red-hot steel with long iron rods as easily and unconcernedly as if they had been hot rolls baked in an infernal oven, heedless of the red-hot sparks which fell around them in showers as each blow of the steam hammer fell.