'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.
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