"I
thought it would be the pretty little one," he said at the table, with a
Quaker disregard of small niceties of feeling; "but, Gilbert, any girl
of yours would be more than the young men of the present deserve." It
was a difficult conversation for every one but Ludowika and Abner
Forsythe. A greater ease appeared after supper. David and Caroline
disappeared in the direction of the clavichord, from which sounded some
scattered, perfunctory measures. The two elder men returned, over a
decanter of French spirits, to the inevitable and engrossing subject of
iron and the Crown regulations; Myrtle sat stiffly before the fireplace
with Isabel Penny; and Howat moved up and across the room, his gaze
lying on Ludowika, spread in an expanse of orange chiffon and bold
silver tracery on the small sofa.
She smiled at him once, but, for the most part, she was lost in revery.
Ludowika had a fan, to hold against the fire; and her white fingers were
playing with its polished black sticks and glazed paper printed with an
ornamental bar of music. A faint colour stained her cheeks as he watched
her, and set his heart tumultuously beating. He told himself over and
over, with an unabated sense of wonder, that she was his. He longed for
the moment when they could discard all pretence and be frankly,
completely, together.
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