"
She read it. The number and date of the note entered in the pocketbook
exactly corresponded with the number and date of the note that Lady
Lydiard had placed in her letter.
Moody handed the pocketbook to Isabel. "There is the proof of your
innocence," he said, "thanks to the dog! Will you write and tell Mr.
Hardyman what has happened?" he asked, with his head down and his eyes
on the ground.
She answered him, with the bright color suddenly flowing over her face.
"_You_ shall write to him," she said, "when the time comes."
"What time?" he asked.
She threw her arms round his neck, and hid her face on his bosom.
"The time," she whispered, "when I am your wife."
A low growl from Tommie reminded them that he too had some claim to be
noticed.
Isabel dropped on her knees, and saluted her old playfellow with
the heartiest kisses she had ever given him since the day when their
acquaintance began. "You darling!" she said, as she put him down again,
"what can I do to reward you?"
Tommie rolled over on his back--more slowly than usual, in consequence
of his luncheon in the tent. He elevated his four paws in the air and
looked lazily at Isabel out of his bright brown eyes. If ever a dog's
look spoke yet, Tommie's look said, "I have eaten too much; rub my
stomach."
POSTSCRIPT.
Persons of a speculative turn of mind are informed that the following
document is for sale, and are requested to mention what sum they will
give for it.
"IOU, Lady Lydiard, five hundred pounds (L500), Felix Sweetsir.
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