he was obviously pleased. "We must go over the whole iron situation with
the Forsythes. It's time you and David stepped forward. I am getting
bothered by new complications; the thing is spreading out so
rapidly--steel and a thousand new methods and refinements. And the
English opposition; I'm afraid you'll come into that."

Ludowika did not again appear that evening, and Howat sat informally
before a blazing hearth with his mother, Gilbert Penny and Caroline.
Myrtle had retired with a headache. Howat felt pleasantly settled,
almost middle-aged; he smoked a pipe with the deliberate gestures of his
father. He wondered at the loss of his old restlessness, his revolt from
just such placid scenes as the present. Never, he had thought, would he
be caught, bound, with invidious affections, desires. Howat, a black
Penny! He had been subjugated by a force stronger than his rebellious
spirit. Suddenly, recalling Ludowika's doubt, he wondered if he would be
a subject to it always. All the elements of his captivity lay so
entirely outside of him, beyond his power to measure or comprehend, that
a feeling of helplessness came over him. He again had the sense of being
swept twisting in an irresistible flood. But his confusion was dominated
by one great assurance--nothing should deprive him of Ludowika. An
intoxicating memory invaded him, touched every nerve with delight and a
tyrannical hunger. His fibre seemed to crumble, his knees turn to dust.
Years ago he had been poisoned by berries, and limpness almost like this
had gone softly, treacherously, through him.




VIII