His playfellow for the time being put a
shawl or a handkerchief over his head, so as to prevent him from seeing,
and then hid among the furniture a pocketbook, or a cigar-case, or a
purse, or anything else that happened to be at hand, leaving the dog to
find it, with his keen sense of smell to guide him. Doubly relieved
by the fit and the bleeding, Tommie's spirits had revived; and he
and Isabel had just begun their game when Moody looked into the room,
charged with his terrible errand. "You're burning, Tommie, you're
burning!" cried the girl, laughing and clapping her hands. The next
moment she happened to look round and saw Moody through the parted
curtains. His face warned her instantly that something serious had
happened. She advanced a few steps, her eyes resting on him in silent
alarm. He was himself too painfully agitated to speak. Not a word was
exchanged between Lady Lydiard and Mr. Troy in the next room. In the
complete stillness that prevailed, the dog was heard sniffing and
fidgeting about the furniture. Robert took Isabel by the hand and led
her into the drawing-room. "For God's sake, spare her, my Lady!" he
whispered. The lawyer heard him. "No," said Mr. Troy. "Be merciful, and
tell her the truth!"
He spoke to a woman who stood in no need of his advice. The inherent
nobility in Lady Lydiard's nature was aroused: her great heart offered
itself patiently to any sorrow, to any sacrifice.
Putting her arm round Isabel--half caressing her, half supporting
her--Lady Lydiard accepted the whole responsibility and told the whole
truth.
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