"Take that for an answer, thou base, lying scoundrel!" he cried savagely; and, leaning forward over his saddle, he dealt the lad a smart and vicious cut across his face with the riding-whip. Timothy was well-nigh blinded with the pain, and presently a drop of blood trickled down his cheek.
"Impertinent whelp!" continued Jasper, preparing to repeat the blow. But Timothy had backed his horse a few steps, and, instead of striking him, Jasper hurled the whip at his head. Timothy dexterously caught it in his hand and flung it some distance along the road, at the same time spurring his horse and galloping away. Gilbert watched him for a moment, and then called him back. But Timothy went on, very sad at heart, for he divined that his young master had lost faith in him.
And indeed it seemed that this was the case, for later on the same day, when Gilbert was at the kennels paying a visit to one of his favourite dogs, Timothy approached him.
"So please you, Master Gilbert—" began Tim in a tone of abject apology. But Gilbert looked at him in stern reproof, and interrupted him, saying:
"Look you, Trollope, I'll have no more of these malicious tales of yours. 'Tis no business of yours to act the spy upon my relatives, and I command you to do no more of it."
Timothy hung his head, hurt to the quick by the reproach.
"Must I then take it that you have lost all confidence in me, Master Gilbert?" he asked.
"Ay," returned Gilbert. "Much am I afraid that 'tis so indeed."
"Then, sir," said Timothy in an unsteady voice, "'twere surely best that I should leave you; for I cannot brook your displeasure, nor think of remaining in the service of a master who hath lost trust in my honour."