She knelt as she picked up the pocketbook, and raised her playfellow of happier days to take her leave of him.  As the dog put his paws on her shoulders, returning her caress, her first tears fell.  “Foolish of me,” she said, faintly, “to cry over a dog.  I can’t help it.  Good-by, Tommie!”

Putting him away from her gently, she walked towards the door.  The dog instantly followed.  She put him away from her, for the second time, and left him.  He was not to be denied; he followed her again, and took the skirt of her dress in his teeth, as if to hold her back.  Robert forced the dog, growling and resisting with all his might, to let go of the dress.  “Don’t be rough with him,” said Isabel.  “Put him on her ladyship’s lap; he will be quieter there.”  Robert obeyed.  He whispered to Lady Lydiard as she received the dog; she seemed to be still incapable of speaking—­she bowed her head in silent assent.  Robert hurried back to Isabel before she had passed the door.  “Not alone!” he said entreatingly.  “Her Ladyship permits it, Isabel.  Let me see you safe to your aunt’s house.”

Isabel looked at him, felt for him, and yielded.

“Yes,” she answered softly; “to make amends for what I said to you when I was thoughtless and happy!” She waited a little to compose herself before she spoke her farewell words to Lady Lydiard.  “Good-by, my Lady.  Your kindness has not been thrown away on an ungrateful girl.  I love you, and thank you, with all my heart.”

Lady Lydiard rose, placing the dog on the chair as she left it.  She seemed to have grown older by years, instead of by minutes, in the short interval that had passed since she had hidden her face from view.  “I can’t bear it!” she cried, in husky, broken tones.  “Isabel!  Isabel!  I forbid you to leave me!”

But one person could venture to resist her.  That person was Mr. Troy—­and Mr. Troy knew it.

“Control yourself,” he said to her in a whisper.  “The girl is doing what is best and most becoming in her position—­and is doing it with a patience and courage wonderful to see.  Sh e places herself under the protection of her nearest relative, until her character is vindicated and her position in your house is once more beyond a doubt.  Is this a time to throw obstacles in her way?  Be worthy of yourself, Lady Lydiard and think of the day when she will return to you without the breath of a suspicion to rest on her!”

There was no disputing with him—­he was too plainly in the right.  Lady Lydiard submitted; she concealed the torture that her own resolution inflicted on her with an endurance which was, indeed, worthy of herself.  Taking Isabel in her arms she kissed her in a passion of sorrow and love.  “My poor dear!  My own sweet girl! don’t suppose that this is a parting kiss!  I shall see you again—­often and often I shall see you again at your aunt’s!” At a sign from Mr. Troy, Robert took Isabel’s arm in his and led her away.  Tommie, watching her from his chair, lifted his little white muzzle as his playfellow looked back on passing the doorway.  The long, melancholy, farewell howl of the dog was the last sound Isabel Miller heard as she left the house.