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,
stronger than any differences of prejudices or blood, more potent than
time itself. The group, the strain, about the table, broke up.
The horses footed abreast over the road that crossed the hills and
forded the watered swales between Myrtle Forge and the Furnace.
Ludowika, riding astride, enveloped and hooded in bottle green, had her
face muffled in a linen riding mask. He wondered vainly what expression
she bore. Speech he found unexpectedly difficult. His passion mounted
and mounted within him, all his being swept unresistingly in its tide.
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