'I can't.

I have been always called Hugh; nothing more.

I never knew, nor saw, nor thought about a father; and I was a boy of six--that's not very old--when they hung my mother up at Tyburn for a couple of thousand men to stare at.
They might have let her live.

She was poor enough.' 'How very sad!' exclaimed his patron, with a condescending smile.

'I have no doubt she was an exceedingly fine woman.' 'You see that dog of mine ?' said Hugh, abruptly.
'Faithful, I dare say ?' rejoined his patron, looking at him through his glass; 'and immensely clever?
Virtuous and gifted animals, whether man or beast, always are so very hideous.' 'Such a dog as that, and one of the same breed, was the only living thing except me that howled that day,' said Hugh.