These threads in the
web of industry, which had shone that day for the first time, were the
lives of two little children.
CHAPTER VIII
THE MANTLE OF MANHOOD
Months passed, and Robert still worked on the pithead. Much of the
novelty had passed, and he was accustomed to the noise and clamor,
though he never lost the feeling that he was working with, or, indeed,
was part of, some giant monster, imprisoned and harnessed, it is true,
but capable of titanic labors and fall of unexpectedness. It was
ever-present, implacable and sinister, yet so long as its fetters held,
easily controlled.
The warm weather had come, and the lure of the moors called to him at
his work. Away out over there--somewhere--there were strange wonders
awaiting him. He watched the trains, long, fast, and so
inevitable-looking, rushing across the moor about a mile and a half from
where he worked, and often, he thought that perhaps some day one of
those flying monsters would bear him away from Lowwood across the moors
into the Big City. What was a city like? And the sea? How big would it
be? It was a staggering thought to imagine a stretch of water that ended
on the sky-line--no land to be seen on the other side! What a wonderful
world it must be!
But a touch of bitterness was creeping into his character, and for this
his mother's teaching was responsible.
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