'Will thou take me to Dick, Marquis?'
The dog turned and walked to the door, then stood and looked back, as if waiting for Richard to open it and follow him.
'No, Marquis, we must not go before night,' said Richard.
The dog returned slowly to his knee, and again laid his chin upon it.
'What will the dog do next, thinkest thou, mother—when he finds himself well again, I mean? Will he run from thee?' said Richard.
'He would be like neither dog nor man I ever knew, did he not.' returned the old woman. 'He will for sure go back where he got his hurts—to revenge them if he may, for that is the custom also with both dogs and men.'
'Couldst thou make sure of him that he run not away till I come again at night, mother?'
'Certain I can, my son. I will shut him up whence he will not break so long as he hears me nigh him.'
'Do so then an' thou lovest me, mother Rees, and I will be here with the first of the darkness.'
'An' I love thee, master Richard? Nay, but I do love thy good face and thy true words, be thou puritan or roundhead, or fanatic, or what evil name soever the wicked fashion of the times granteth to men to call thee.'