He returned to the counting house, and worked methodically through the afternoon, with an increasing sense of being involved in an irresistible movement.  This gave him a feeling almost of tranquillity; from the beginning he had not been responsible.  In the face of illness the Italian servant proved utterly undependable; he cringed, stricken with dread, from the spectacle of suffering.  And when late in the day Mr. Winscombe, partially drugged with opium, grew consciously weaker, Howat’s assistance was required.

Ludowika now remained in the room with her husband, and there was a discreet movement in and out by various members of the household.  Isabel Penny remained for an hour, Caroline took her place, Myrtle fluttered uncertainly in the doorway.  Through the evening Felix Winscombe lay propped on pillows, his head covered by a black gros de Naples cap.  His keen personality waned and revived on his long, yellow countenance.  At one side wigs stood in a row on blocks, a brilliant, magenta coat lay in a huddle on a chair.  At intervals he spoke, in a thinner, higher voice than customary, petulantly uneasy, or with a familiar, sardonic inflection.  At the latter Ludowika would grow immensely cheered.  She entirely ignored Howat on the occasions when he was in the room.  He saw her mostly bent over leather boxes, into which disappeared her rich store of silk and gold brocades, shoes of purple morocco, soft white shifts.  Howat watched her without an emotion visible on his sombre countenance.

Occasionally Mr. Winscombe’s tenuous fingers dipped into a snuff box of black enamel and brilliants, and he lifted his hand languidly.  The man’s vitality, his sheer determination, were extraordinary.  Even now he was far from impotence.  He had, Howat had learned, completely dominated the Provincial Councils, forced a mutual compromise and agreement on them.  He spoke of still more complicated affairs awaiting him in England.  He damned the Italian’s “white liver,” and threatened to leave him in America.  Dr. Watlow had been forced to return to the city.

Through the unaccustomed stir Howat was ceaselessly aware of his feeling for Ludowika; he thought of it with a sense of shame; but it easily drowned all other considerations.  He continued to speculate about their future together.  Whatever his father might conclude about his personal arrangements, the elder would see that he was necessary to the future of the Penny iron.  They might live in one of the outlying stone dwellings at the Forge ... for the present.  He was glad that Gilbert Penny, that he, was rich.  Ludowika could continue to dress in rare fabrics, to step in elaborate pattens over the common earth.  That could not help but influence, assuage, her in the end.  The Pennys’ position in the Province, too, was high; the most exclusive assemblies were open to them.  He regarded his satisfaction in these details with something of Mr. Winscombe’s bitter humour.  In the past he had repudiated them with