“You don’t know him,” answered the child, “Oh! I am sure he would kill me if I let you go,” she continued, clasping her little hands.
“But I must go,” replied Kate, with an endeavor to overawe the child. “You cannot help it.”
The child laid her hand significantly on the bloodhound, which had risen from his reclining posture and now stood at her side, watching alternately her countenance and that of Kate. This gesture he seemed to interpret as it was intended, for he bristled up and uttered a low growl.
Kate shudderingly looked over her shoulder in the direction of the house.
“Don’t—don’t,” she cried, in an eager whisper, imploringly glancing down into the child’s face, and laying her hand on the girl’s shoulder.
The child looked up, with her sad, earnest eyes, at the same time patting the bloodhound, who became quiet at once.
“Oh! if I could let you go,” she said, and her little face was eloquent in every feature with sincerity. “I haven’t slept a wink all night, thinking of you. That was before I saw you,” she added, naively, “before I knew you were beautiful, or looked so good.”
“Does nobody live here but you?” Kate said, wondering to find the child in such a place. “I mean nobody but you and Arrison.”
“He hasn’t lived here always,” she replied. “He did once, and then went away, and only came back a week ago.”
“But you didn’t live here alone?”