"Oh, surely you would not have shot it?" cried Felicia, horrified at the thought. "Perhaps the poor thing was hungry," she suggested; "it looked half-starved."
"Those sort of dogs always have a starved look with them; it's the breed of them," Brown said carelessly. "Depend upon it, that lurcher belongs to one of the gipsies who are encamped on the common; it must be a bold poacher to venture as near the house as this. It'll be wanting a duck next, I shouldn't wonder."
"Oh, I hope not! What would have happened, do you imagine, Brown, if Lion had been here and encountered the lurcher?"
"There would have been a fight, most likely, and if so, Lion would certainly have killed the other."
"Oh, then I am thankful he was not here!" the little girl exclaimed shudderingly.
"I'm sorry to hear Mr. Guy is so ill to-day," remarked Brown with a change of tone, his somewhat harsh voice softening; "I suppose the master is with him, miss?"
Then, after Felicia had replied in the affirmative and explained that her grandfather had not left her uncle's room that day, he continued: "Ah, Mr. Renford was always a devoted father, though strict with his children, and Mr. Guy's affliction has been a terrible trial to him. You see, he wasn't born deformed; it came about by his nurse's carelessness. That makes it all the more sad, to my mind." And touching his hat respectfully, Brown moved away.
Felicia walked slowly back to the house, her mind now fully occupied with thoughts of the gipsies. She had continued to keep her visit to the common a secret from her grandfather, though on several occasions she had longed to tell him about it, for it weighed heavily on her conscience; but he had appeared so prejudiced against the gipsies, and Doris had succeeded in making her so fearful, that her courage had always failed her when it had come to the point of speaking out. Now, as she entered the house, she met Mr. Renford in the hall, and followed him into the dining-room to inquire for her uncle.
"He is resting, I am thankful to say," he told her, as he threw himself into an easy-chair, looking very weary himself; "the pain ceased about half-an-hour ago, and now he is trying to sleep."
"I am so glad he is better, grandfather," said Felicia earnestly, "for your sake too. It must be dreadful to watch him suffer and not be able to do anything for him—except pray for him."