The sound of the iron hammer on the malleable metal was like muffled silver, and the sparks flew out like jocund fireflies.

She was making two hooks for her kitchen wall, for she was clever at the forge, and could shoe a horse if she were let to do so.

She was but half-turned to Valmond, but he caught the pure outlines of her face and neck, her extreme delicacy of expression, which had a pathetic, subtle refinement, in acute contrast to the quick, abundant health, the warm energy, the half defiant look of Elise.

It was a picture of labour and life.
A dozen thoughts ran through Valmond's mind.

He was responsible, to an extent, for the happiness of these two young creatures.