'Out of the two thousand odd--there was a larger crowd for its being a woman--the dog and I alone had any pity.

If he'd have been a man, he'd have been glad to be quit of her, for she had been forced to keep him lean and half-starved; but being a dog, and not having a man's sense, he was sorry.' 'It was dull of the brute, certainly,' said Mr Chester, 'and very like a brute.' Hugh made no rejoinder, but whistling to his dog, who sprung up at the sound and came jumping and sporting about him, bade his sympathising friend good night.
'Good night; he returned.

'Remember; you're safe with me--quite safe.

So long as you deserve it, my good fellow, as I hope you always will, you have a friend in me, on whose silence you may rely.

Now do be careful of yourself, pray do, and consider what jeopardy you might have stood in.
Good night! bless you!' Hugh truckled before the hidden meaning of these words as much as such a being could, and crept out of the door so submissively and subserviently--with an air, in short, so different from that with which he had entered--that his patron on being left alone, smiled more than ever.
'And yet,' he said, as he took a pinch of snuff, 'I do not like their having hanged his mother.