Verner. Very peremptory
indeed had been a certain interview of his with Roy the bailiff. Not, as
formerly, had he said, "Roy, my uncle desires me to say so and so;" or,
"Roy, you must not act in that way, it would displease Mr. Verner;" but
he issued his own clear and unmistakable orders, as the sole master of
Verner's Pride. He and Roy all but came to loggerheads that day; and
they would have come quite to it, but that Roy remembered in time that
he, before whom he stood, was his head and master--his master to keep
him on, or to discharge him at pleasure, and who would brook no more
insubordination to his will. So Roy bowed, and ate humble pie, and hated
Lionel all the while. Lionel had seen this; he had seen how the man
longed to rebel, had he dared: and now a flush of pain rose to his brow
as he remembered that in that interview he had _not_ been the master;
that he was less master now than he had ever been. Roy would likewise
remember it.
Mr. Bitterworth took Lionel aside. Sir Rufus Hautley had gone out after
the blow had fallen, when the codicil had been searched for in vain, had
gone out in anger, shaking the dust from his feet, declining to act as
executor, to accept the mourning-ring, to have to do with anything so
palpably unjust.
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