"No truth, my dear?" said the old woman, taking and kissing the hand laid upon her shoulder. "Was there no truth in my shutting poor Bruno up in the shed, and his getting out by tearing his way under the side, and howling in the garden the night poor dear master died? I know what you will both say to me, that I am a silly old woman; but I have seen and heard strange things in my time, and I hope, with all my heart, that this is not a sign of ill having come to some one we know, whether it's to young master or Mr Saul. But, mark my words, we shall hear something terrible, and before long." "Yes, we shall all hear bad news, Denton, if we live long enough," said Mrs Hampton, who was quite herself again. "Let's go and see how your patient is, Gertrude, my dear." She crossed to the door, and Gertrude followed her quickly, leaving the old housekeeper hesitating as to whether to go or stay, and ending by slowly following the others into the hall. Bruno had not moved from where he had been left, but lay with his head between his paws, and eyes closed, apparently asleep, till Gertrude stood over him, when he half opened his eyes and looked up at her. "Poor old dog, then!" she said gently, as she went down on one knee and softly stroked his neck. The dog closed his eyes and responded to her caress by giving a few raps upon the floor with his tail, after which he lay perfectly still, as if asleep. "I wonder how he was hurt," said Gertrude gently. "Some brute must have struck him, and he ought to be punished." "Bruno would not hurt anyone except those he hates," said Mrs Denton slowly, as she came and stood close by them. "Poor thing!" said Mrs Hampton. "Well, we can do no more. He will soon get better. Come, Gertrude." The girl was giving the dog a final pat on the neck, when it suddenly raised its head, opened its eyes wildly and stared right away, uttering a long, low howl, ending in a mournful whine. "Really," exclaimed Mrs Hampton, "he must not do that or you must have him moved, Gertrude." The dog seemed to sink into an uneasy sleep, and Gertrude followed Mrs Hampton into the drawing-room. "Ought we to take any steps about George?" said Gertrude, after a pause; "to find out whether he has gone with Saul Harrington?" "No, my dear, certainly not. He has a perfect right to do as he pleases. He will, as I said before, no doubt write." Gertrude was silent, and crossed to a writing-table to busy herself over sundry domestic accounts, while Mrs Hampton took out her knitting and glanced at her from time to time, as her needles clicked and flashed in their rapid plying. "And a good thing if he has gone," she said to herself. "If I could do as I liked, he'd have his money and go to Jericho or any other place, so long as he did not come and worry her." By this time Gertrude's attention was taken up by her accounts, and her countenance looked comparatively calm and peaceful.