The curious intensity and limitation of Hugh's affections were never
more exemplified than in his devotion to a charming collie, Roddy,
belonging to my sister, the most engaging dog I have ever known. Roddy
was a great truant, and went away sometimes for days and even weeks.
Game is carefully preserved on the surrounding estates, and we were
always afraid that Roddy, in his private hunting expeditions, might fall
a victim to a conscientious keeper's gun, which, alas, was doubtless the
cause of his final and deeply lamented disappearance. Hugh had a great
affection for Roddy, and showed it, when he came to Tremans, by keeping
Roddy constantly at his heels, having him to sleep in his room, and
never allowing him out of his sight. For the first day or two Roddy
enjoyed these attentions, but gradually, as the visit lasted, became
more and more restive, and was for ever trying to give Hugh the slip;
moreover, as soon as Hugh went away, Roddy always disappeared for a few
days to recover his sense of independence and liberty. I can see Hugh
now walking about in his cassock, with Roddy at his heels; then they
would join a circle on the lawn, and Roddy would attach himself to some
other member of the family for a little, but was always sternly whistled
away by Hugh, when he went back to his room. Moreover, instead of going
back to the stable to sleep snugly in the straw, which Roddy loved best,
he had to come to the smoking-room, and then go back to sleep in a
basket chair in Hugh's bedroom. I can remember Hugh departing at the end
of his visit, and saying to me, "I know it's no use asking you--but do
try to keep an eye on Roddy! It makes me miserable to think of his
getting into the woods and being shot." But he did not think much about
Roddy in his absence, never asked to take Roddy to Hare Street; nor did
he manifest deep emotion when he finally disappeared, nor make long
lamentation for him. Hugh never wasted any time in vain regrets or
unavailing pathos.