at the Furnace, of the rain beating on the roof, and Ludowika ... God,
if that old man would only return, go, leave them! The clouds vanished
and left the nights emerald clear, the constellations glittered in
frosty immensities of silence. He stood at the open window with his
shoulders bare, revelling in the cold air that flowed over him, defying
winter, death itself. The moon waned immutably.

David was now at Shadrach Furnace, living with the Heydricks, and the
necessities that brought him to Myrtle Forge were endless. He was
absolutely happy, and Howat watched him with mingled longing and envy.
His affair, darker, more tragic in spite of a consummation that must be
joyous, seemed infinitely more mature. Caroline was a nice enough girl,
but Ludowika was supremely fascinating. David amused him:

"Caroline is a miracle. Of course there are prettier, and Mrs. Winscombe
has more air; but none has Caroline's charming manner. Of course, you
have noticed it. Even a thick-headed brother couldn't miss that. We have
plans for you, too. And it's no good your looking glum; we'll glum you."

The amusement faded from Howat's countenance, and he listened sullenly
to the end of the raillery. His temper was growing daily more uneven,
the delight had largely left his reflections. His passion had become too
insistent for happy conjecturing; the visions of Ludowika now only
tormented him. Her eyes were like burning sapphires, her warm palms
caressed his face; he was increasingly gaunt and shadowed. Once he gave
a note for her to the Italian servant, loathing the hand that adroitly
covered the folded sheet, the other's oblique smile; but she sent back
word that she was suffering from a headache. He began to plan so that he
would intercept her in unexpected places. She, too, was passionate in
her admissions; but, somehow, some one always stumbled toward them, or