thought. Gilbert Penny did not readily recover from his consternation;
his surprise had notably increased to that. His mouth was open, his face
red and agitated. "Before the children, Isabel," he complained. "Don't
know what to think. Surely, surely, you don't uphold Howat? Outrageous
conduct if it's true. And Myrtle so gentle, never hurt any one in her
life." Myrtle circled the table, and found a place in his arms. "If they
had only told me," she protested. "If Caroline--" He patted her flushed
cheeks. "Don't give it another thought," he directed; "a girl as pretty
as you! I'll take you to London, where you'll have a string of men, not
Quakers, fine as peacocks." He bent his gaze on his son.

"Didn't I tell you last evening that the cast metal has been light?" he
demanded. "Must I beg you to go to the Furnace? Or perhaps that too
conflicts with your mother's fears for you. There are stumps in the
road." There was a whisper of skirts at the door, and Ludowika Winscombe
stood smiling at them. Myrtle turned her tear-swollen face upon her
father's shoulder. Howat wondered if Ludowika had slept. He endeavoured
in vain to discover from her serene countenance something of her
thoughts of what had occurred. He had a sudden inspiration.

"I can go to Shadrach as soon as Adam saddles a horse," he told his
father. "You were curious about the Furnace," he added to Ludowika,
masking the keen anxiety he felt at what was to follow; "it's a sunny
day, a pleasant ride." She answered without a trace of feeling other
than a casual politeness. "Thank you, since it will be my only
opportunity. I'll have to change." She was gazing, Howat discovered,
lightly at Isabel Penny. "I must get the figures from Schwar," his
father said. Before he left the room he moved to his wife's side, rested
his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him with a reassuring nod.
Howat saw that, whatever it might be, the bond between them was secure,