"I make no promise now. Tell me the tale, and then exact what pledge you will."
"It is a very short tale. I took a walk with Isabella and Gertrude one day, about three weeks ago. They reached home before me; I stayed behind to speak to John. After leaving him, I pleased myself with lingering in the lane, where all was very still and shady. I was tired of chattering to the girls, and in no hurry to rejoin them. As I stood leaning against the gate-pillar, thinking some very happy thoughts about my future life—for that morning I imagined that events were beginning to turn as I had long wished them to turn——"
"Ah! Nunnely had been with her the evening before!" thought Moore parenthetically.
"I heard a panting sound; a dog came running up the lane. I know most of the dogs in this neighbourhood. It was Phœbe, one of Mr. Sam Wynne's pointers. The poor creature ran with her head down, her tongue hanging out; she looked as if bruised and beaten all over. I called her. I meant to coax her into the house and give her some water and dinner. I felt sure she had been ill-used. Mr. Sam often flogs his pointers cruelly. She was too flurried to know me; and when I attempted to pat her head, she turned and snatched at my arm. She bit it so as to draw blood, then ran panting on. Directly after, Mr. Wynne's keeper came up, carrying a gun. He asked if I had seen a dog. I told him I had seen Phœbe.
"'You had better chain up Tartar, ma'am,' he said, 'and tell your people to keep within the house. I am after Phœbe to shoot her, and the groom is gone another way. She is raging mad.'"
Mr. Moore leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. Miss Keeldar resumed her square of silk canvas, and continued the creation of a wreath of Parmese violets.
"And you told no one, sought no help, no cure? You would not come to me?"
"I got as far as the schoolroom door; there my courage failed. I preferred to cushion the matter."
"Why? What can I demand better in this world than to be of use to you?"
"I had no claim."