it from you? Go, Moody! The longer you delay, the harder it will be."

With his head sunk on his breast, with anguish written in every line
of his face, Moody obeyed. Passing slowly down the short passage which
connected the two rooms, and still shrinking from the duty that had
been imposed on him, he paused, looking through the curtains which hung
over the entrance to the boudoir.




CHAPTER VII.

THE sight that met Moody's view wrung him to the heart.

Isabel and the dog were at play together. Among the varied
accomplishments possessed by Tommie, the capacity to take his part at a
game of hide-and-seek was one. 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