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.