set his intentions. An entirely
different proceeding would now be demanded, but with an identical end.
What pity he felt for the elder had no power to reach or alter his
passion.

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 fu