It was natural for men so to adventure, but Howat thought of Isabel Penny with, perhaps, the only marked admiration he felt for any being.  There had been a period, short but strenuous, of material difficulties, in which the girl—­she had been hardly a woman in years—­entirely unprepared for such a different activity, had been finely competent and courageous.  This had not endured long because Gilbert Penny had been successful almost from the first day of his landing in a new world.  Chance letters had enlisted the confidence of David Forsythe, a Quaker merchant of property and increasing importance; the latter became a part owner of an iron furnace situated not far from the Penny holding; he assisted Gilbert in the erection of a forge; and in less than twenty years Gilbert Penny had grown to be a half proprietor in the Furnace, with—­

“Howat,” Caroline broke in on his thoughts sharply, “I came in, as I said, to talk about something very important to me, and I intend to do it.”  Even after that decided announcement she hesitated, a deeper colour stained her dear cheeks.  “You mustn’t laugh at me,” she warned him; “or think I’m horrid.  I can talk to you like this because you seem a—­a little outside of things, as if you were looking on at a rather poorly done play; and you are entirely honest yourself.”

He nodded condescendingly, his interest at last retrieved from the contemplation of his mother as a young woman.

“It’s about David,” Caroline stated almost defiantly.  “Howat, I think I’m very fond of David.  No, you mustn’t interrupt me.  When he went away I liked him a lot; but now that he is back, and quite grown up, it’s more than liking ...  Howat.  His father brought him out here right away he returned, and for a special reason.  He was very direct about it; he wants David to marry—­Myrtle.  I heard father—­yes, I listened—­and him talking it over, and our old darling was pleased to death.  It’s natural, Mr. Forsythe is one of the most influential men in the city; and father adores Myrtle more than anything else in the world.”  She paused, and he studied her in a growing wonder; suddenly she seemed older, her mouth was drawn in a hard line:  a new Caroline.  “You know Myrtle,” she added.

He did, and considered the youngest Penny with a new objectivity.  Myrtle was an extremely pretty, even a beautiful girl.  “You know Myrtle,” she repeated; “and why father is so blind is more than I can understand.  She doesn’t care a ribbon for truth, she never thinks of anything but her own comfort and clothes, and—­and she’d make David miserable.  Myrtle simply can’t fancy anybody but herself.  That’s very different from me, Howat; or yourself.  You would be a burning lover.”  He laughed incredulously.  “And I, well, I know what I feel.

“It’s practically made up for David to marry Myrtle, that is, to urge it all that’s possible; and she will never care for him, while all he thinks of now is how good looking she is.  I want David, terribly,” she said, sitting erect with shut hands; “and I will be expected to step aside, to keep out of the way while Myrtle poses at him.  Oh, I know all about it.  I see her rehearsing before the glass.  Or I will be expected to act as a contrast, a plain background, for Myrtle’s beauty.