“Old beast!” he said aloud: “I’ll serve you out for this some day.”
Then his countenance changed, his jaw dropped, and he drew to one side to allow Lady Pinemount to pass, fully conscious that she must have heard his words and seen the expression on his face.
“It’s all over,” he groaned, as her ladyship passed into the library. “I’m a ruined man. She’ll tell him, and—oh dear, oh dear! The workhouse stares us all in the face.”
But Lady Pinemount did not tell her husband, for she knew that the unfortunate steward must have been smarting from one of the injuries his lordship knew so well how to inflict. In fact, if she had felt so disposed she would not have had the opportunity, for the moment she had closed the door she was addressed.
“Ah, here you are!” cried her lord. “I hope you are satisfied.”
“Satisfied, dear?”
“Dear? Bah! You’ve encouraged and sided with that scoundrel of a boy, till he is in open rebellion against me; and then you call me dear.”
“I have not encouraged him,” said Lady Pinemount. “I have always tried to set you two at one. What is the matter now?”
“Why, I’ve found out this morning that Denis himself cut down and burned that hoarding.”
“Over whose destruction you insulted Doctor Salado.”