“Impossible, uncle; you do but jest. This noble creature is a safeguard to you as well as to me. Dogs have been known to famish by the murdered body of their master.”
“Cease—cease!” cried Gray. “Do you want to drive me mad?”
“Mad, uncle, because dogs are faithful?”
“No more, I say. Stand aside.”
“I will not forsake my dog. Joy, defend yourself.”
The dog uttered a low growl, and showed rather a formidable row of glistening teeth.
“Harry,” said Gray, “do you know who and what you are?”
A mantling flush colour crimsoned the pale brow of the boy, as he said,—
“You have told me.”
“You know your utter dependence is upon me?”