side, she now wrought on his nature with a
purifying and ennobling influence which animated it with a new life.
All that had been selfish and violent in his passion for her left him to
return no more. The immeasurable devotion which he laid at her feet, in
the days that were yet to come--the unyielding courage which cheerfully
accepted the sacrifice of himself when events demanded it at a later
period of his life--struck root in him now. Without attempting to
conceal the tears that were falling fast over his cheeks--striving
vainly to express those new thoughts in him that were beyond the reach
of words--he stood before her the truest friend and servant that ever
woman had.

"Oh, my dear! my heart is heavy for you. Take me to serve you and help
you. Her Ladyship's kindness will permit it, I am sure."

He could say no more. In those simple words the cry of his heart reached
her. "Forgive me, Robert," she answered, gratefully, "if I said anything
to pain you when we spoke together a little while since. I didn't mean
it." She gave him her hand, and looked timidly over her shoulder at Lady
Lydiard. "Let me go!" she said, in low, broken tones, "Let me go!"

Mr. Troy heard her, and stepped forward to interfere before Lady Lydiard
could speak. The man had recovered his self-control; the lawyer took his
place again on the scene.

"You must not leave us, my dear," he said to Isabel, "until I have put a
question to Mr. Moody in which you are interested. Do you happen to have
the number of the lost bank-note?" he asked, turning to the steward.

Moody produced his slip of paper with the number on it. Mr. Troy made
two copies of it before he returned the paper. One copy he put in his
pocket, the other he handed to Isabel.

"Keep it carefully," he said. "Neither you nor I know how soon it may be
of use to you."

Receiving the copy from him, she felt mechanically in her apron for her
pocketbook. She had used it, in playing with the dog, as an object to
hide from him; but she had suffered, and was still suffering, too keenly
to be capable of the effort of remembrance. Moody, eager to help her
even in the most trifling thing, guessed what had happened. "You were
playing with Tommie," he said; "is it in the next room?"

The dog heard his name pronounced through the open door. The next moment
he trotted into the drawing-room with Isabel's pocketbook in his mouth.
He was a strong, well-grown Scotch terrier of the largest size, wit