“It isn't right, John! I haven't had pay for my ability! Why, the place would have gone down to nothing with any management but mine!”
“If she were to die, you'd inherit?”
Ware laughed harshly.
“She looks like dying, doesn't she?”
“Listen to me, Tom. I'll take her away, and Belle Plain is yours—land, stock and niggers!” said Murrell quietly.
Ware shifted and twisted in his seat.
“It can't be done. I can advise and urge: but I can't command. She's got her friends, those people back yonder in North Carolina, and if I made things uncomfortable for her here she'd go to them and I couldn't stop her. You don't seem to get it through your head that she's got no earthly use for you!”
Murrell favored him with a contemptuous glance.
“You're like every one else! Certain things you'll do, and certain other things you won't even try to do—your conscience or your fear gets in your way.”
“Call it what you like.”