He stepped back a pace or two and folded his arms tight across his chest, as if to restrain the surging passion within him, which he feared might get the better of him.
“Take care, sir!” he repeated, “you have ‘thrashed me within an inch of my life’ for the last time, and I mean what I say, Squire Talford. I have been your bond-slave for four long, weary years; ever since my mother who, when she was dying and thought she was making a wise provision for me, signed a paper which made you my ‘master’ until I should be seventeen years of age, which, thank God, will be just one month from to-day. I do not need to rehearse to you what that bondage has been. You know as well as I do that my lot has been that of a serf, that I have been made to do the work of a man; yes, and in some instances, like to-day, for example, that of two men, during most of that time. For this I have received my board, lodging, and clothes—such as they are,” he interposed, his scornful glance sweeping over his coarse garment.
“I have served you faithfully, patiently, and you know it,” he resumed, “not because of any personal regard or respect that I have entertained for you, or of fear of your many unjust ‘thrashings,’ but”—his tone softening and faltering slightly—“because my mother taught me to obey, always, the golden rule, to suffer wrong rather than commit a wrong, and, once having made a contract, to abide by it to the letter. This, sir, is the reason why you see yonder hay-field as it is”—with a gesture indicating the white-capped cocks at which he had labored so hard that afternoon. “Much of that hay would have been soaked by the rain had not duty bidden me to do unto my neighbor as I would be done by, and so I did my utmost to save it. Now, sir, having done my best for you to-day and always, I am in no mood to have you lay so much as your finger upon me in anger.”
The man and the youth stood looking straight into each other’s eyes for one long, silent minute, the man noting the broad, square shoulders, the muscular limbs, and dauntless air of the figure before him. Then he stepped back a pace or two with an impatient shrug.
“Well, have you done?” he questioned, with a sneer, but his face, even to his lips, was white with repressed passion.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then be off and attend to your chores,” was the stern command.
“Pat can do the chores to-night, sir. I think I have done enough for one day,” was the quiet but decided response, and the young man turned coolly away, walked around to a side door, entered the house, and mounted to his room.
Throwing himself into a chair he dropped his head upon his table with a sense of weakness and weariness such as he had seldom experienced. The reaction had come, and he realized that the excitement of the last few hours, especially of the last few moments, had taken more out of him than a week of ordinary work would have done.
“The end is near,” he muttered, “and I hail its coming, for I am afraid that I could not much longer keep my promise to my mother and remain in the service of that tyrant.”