Such were the special instructions which now detained Isabel in the drawing-room. She lighted the taper, and closed and sealed the open envelope, without feeling curiosity enough even to look at the address. Mr. Hardyman was the uppermost subject in her thoughts. Leaving the sealed letter on the table, she returned to the fireplace, and studied her own charming face attentively in the looking-glass. The time passed -- and Isabel's reflection was still the subject of Isabel's contemplation. "He must see many beautiful ladies," she thought, veering backward and forward between pride and humility. "I wonder what he sees in Me?"
The clock struck the hour. Almost at the same moment the boudoir - door opened, and Robert Moody, released at last from attendance on Tommie, entered the drawing-room.
"WELL?" asked Isabel, eagerly, "what does Mr. Hardyman say? Does he think he can cure Tommie?"
Moody answered a little coldly and stiffly. His dark, deeply-set eyes rested on Isabel with an uneasy look.
"Mr. Hardyman seems to understand animals," he said. "He lifted the dog's eyelid and looked at his eye, and then he told us the bath was useless."