As Hugh lies dying of his self-inflicted wounds in his jail cell, Davis employs tactile imagery to bring the reader closer to the "Old Wolfe's" final moments:
He had been so hot and tired there always in the mills! The years had been so fierce and cruel! There was coming now quiet and coolness and sleep. His tense limbs relaxed, and settled in a calm languor. The blood ran fainter and slow from his heart.
The tactile imagery of Hugh feeling "hot and tired" from endless labor in the mills contrasts sharply with the chill of death creeping over him. Rather than being frightened of it, he welcomes it. The years of back-breaking and unrelenting work have taken a toll on him, as the reader has learned throughout the story. Instead of being a fearful indicator that death is coming, the prospect of "quiet and coolness and sleep" is a welcome, pleasant reprieve.
As she describes his “tense limbs” relaxing and the blood running "fainter and slow" from his heart, Davis’s sensory language vividly conveys the idea that Hugh’s life force is ebbing away. Phrases like "calm languor" and the passage’s focus on coolness and quiet give the reader a strong sense of Hugh’s blood draining from him. He’s transitioning from a state of constant stress and toil to a blissful, restful escape.
As Davis describes a birdseye view of the mill town from the narrator's window, Davis employs visual imagery to illustrate how different the industrial scene on the ground is from the dramatic skyscape above it:
The fog had risen, and the town and river were steeped in its thick, gray damp; but overhead, the sun-touched smoke-clouds opened like a cleft ocean,—shifting, rolling seas of crimson mist, waves of billowy silver veined with blood-scarlet, inner depths unfathomable of glancing light.
The visual imagery of the "thick, gray damp" that engulfs the town and river creates an immediate sense of the environment's drabness. Everything is grey and wet, “steeped” in the damp of the fog. This suffocating dampness, which also suggests moldiness or rot, mirrors the suffocating reality of mill life. The mill town is coated in a fungal blanket of moisture that covers it with a greyish rime. This damp seems to spread to the spirits of those within it, as well as disperse into the clouds above.
In stark contrast, the "sun-touched smoke-clouds" that the author describes as "like a cleft ocean" open up to a majestic, painterly set of visual images. Rather than being claustrophobic and limiting, these clouds are active and expansive. The only water movement in the mill town is that of the river, but the clouds above it act like the sea. The juxtaposition of the dull torpor of the smoky fog with the natural, almost sublime oceanic imagery of clouds makes the rough conditions in the town seem even worse.
The colors of the skyscape are also rich and striking, particularly when held up against the dusty grime of the houses and factory buildings. Davis’s descriptions of "crimson mist" and "waves of billowy silver veined with blood-scarlet" make the sky and its clouds seem absolutely throbbing with life. Unlike the mill, which is a hellish, shadowy environment, the insides of the clouds are full of “depths unfathomable of glancing light.” There’s no clearer image in this short story of the duality of life inside and outside the mill town. The oppressive, colorless town huddles below and the vibrant, living sky crashes and sparkles like the sea above.
As Hugh listens to the bustling scene outside his jail cell when Deb visits him, Davis uses auditory imagery to illustrate the contrast between life on the street and life in the cell:
The clink of money as it changed hands, the busy crowd of whites and blacks shoving, pushing one another, and the chaffering and swearing at the stalls.
The auditory imagery of the "clink of money" here evokes the sharp, distinctive sounds of the world of work and financial transactions. Hugh and Deb have been imprisoned because of Deb’s theft of Mitchell’s money, and so hearing its “clink” reminds the reader of why they’re in jail in the first place. Outside, it seems like an innocuous sound, but to Hugh it’s the source of all their suffering. Were it not for their being underpaid and undervalued, Deb would not have needed to steal Mitchell's money. The unfairness of his 19-year conviction has driven him mad, and he's forced to hear its cause outside his window constantly.
The narrator’s description of the "chaffering and swearing" at the market-stalls also brings to life the clamor of the vendors and customers. The specific choice of the word "chaffering”—a 19th-century term that means haggling—makes the reader feel ensconced in the back-and-forths of small, everyday transactions. The jarring noises of the market are also a harsh contrast to the silence and isolation of the jail, emphasizing Hugh and Deb’s separation from the external world and its “busy crowd.”
In this passage, which introduces where Hugh works at the mill, the narrator depicts a dramatic scene of nighttime industrial labor using the visual imagery of flames and several similes. Describing Hugh’s workplace, Davis writes:
Fire in every horrible form: pits of flame waving in the wind; liquid metal-flames writhing in tortuous streams through the sand…and through all, crowds of half-clad men, looking like revengeful ghosts in the red light, hurried, throwing masses of glittering fire. It was like a street in Hell.
The visual imagery of "pits of flame" and "liquid metal-flames" paints a picture of intense heat for the reader. There’s fire everywhere, making the area around the furnaces seem inescapable and hellish. The contrast between the brightness of the molten metal’s “red light” and the surrounding darkness brings the scene to life for the reader. They can almost see the glowing furnace and the surrounding night full of bodies, feel its heat and sweat. This imagery does two things here. It captures the physical intensity of working at the mill, but also presents the reader with the idea that these men are laboring as a punishment. The description of the hordes of “half-clad men" further suggests that this work strips people of their personhood. These aren’t individuals, they’re a “crowd” who are “throwing masses of glittering fire.” They become an undifferentiated group united in their suffering.
The two similes in the quote support this, coming in close proximity to one another at the end. The men labor in the night "like revengeful ghosts,” eerie in the menacing glow of the mill's fires. It’s as if they are already dead and are being punished for their sins by being made to return to this work. The second simile, which sums up all of this description of the furnaces as being "like a street in Hell," also reinforces the idea that these men are doing hard and horrible work in an awful place.
