Mrs. Dunbar explained.
Upon this Wiggins went through the hall to the rear, and there, in the same place as where Mrs. Dunbar last saw him, was the dog. He was lying down now. He wagged his tail in friendly recognition as they came up. Wiggins patted him and stroked him and tried to coax him away. The result was precisely the same as it had been before. The dog received all advances in the most friendly manner possible. He wagged his tail, rolled over on his back, licked their hands, sat up on his hind-quarters, and did every thing which dogs usually do when petted or played with, but nothing would induce him to leave the place. He did not appear to be in any trouble. He seemed simply to have made up his mind to stay there, and this resolution he maintained most obstinately.
Wiggins could make nothing of it; but the sight of the dog renewed the terrors of Mrs. Dunbar.
“I'm afraid,” said she—“I'm afraid that something's happened to Leon.”
“To Leon!” exclaimed Wiggins, impatiently; “what could happen to him! I told him to quit this place, and he has probably concluded to do so.”
“But what do you think of his flight at the same time with Edith?”
“I don't know what to think of it. I only know this, that if he has harmed one hair of her head, I—I'll—kill him! My own injuries I will forgive, but wrongs done to her I will avenge!”
At this Mrs. Dunbar shrank away, and looked at Wiggins in fear.
“But it may be all the other way,” said she, in a tremulous voice. “Edith was terrible in her fury. She was no timid, faltering girl; she was resolute and vindictive. If he has followed her, or laid hands on her, she may have—” She hesitated.
“May have what?” asked Wiggins.