CHAPTER X.
Mrs. Barry rose with as much haste as her age and infirmities would permit, and excusing herself to Cecil Laurens, went upstairs after her obdurate niece.
The young man, left alone, said to himself:
“Mrs. Everett has proved herself a wise woman and refused to let her niece leave Ferndale. I applaud her good sense.”
And he did not alter his opinion even when Molly came down presently with red-rimmed eyes and a doleful expression that proved how deeply she had taken her disappointment to heart.
Mrs. Barry did not come down with her, and she went out on the wide porch and sat down sulkily in a big rustic chair.
Cecil Laurens followed her, and leaning his arms on the top of her chair, looked down into the pretty clouded face.
“What did Aunt Lucy say?” he asked.
Molly snapped out a vicious little “No!”
“A wise woman,” said Cecil Laurens.
Molly looked up at him with an angry gleam in the dark eyes.
“Do you think so?” she asked in an odd tone, adding sharply: “Time will tell.”
Then the bright eyes turned from him and wandered toward the grove of trees that inclosed the house. He saw her breast rise and fall quickly, and her little hands clinched themselves in silent anger. Plainly, Molly was in a passion.
“Miss Barry, you puzzle me!” said Cecil Laurens. “Why are you so anxious to return to Staunton? Have you a lover there?”
Molly glanced up, and a saucy smile broke through the gloom of her face.
“Pray, is that any of your business, sir?” she demanded, pertly, and was amazed when he answered, promptly:
“Yes.”
“But how?” curiously.
“Forewarned is forearmed. I did not want to fall in love with you myself if there were any prior claim on you,” he replied, coolly and teasingly.
“I am not the least afraid you will commit such a folly,” she replied, carelessly. “If it were my step-sister, now—but it could never beme!”
“Your step-sister!” with a frown. “That would be impossible, you know. But tell me why you think so.”
“Oh, she is dignified like the Barrys, and has such an odd, charming style of beauty—yellow hair and yellow eyes.”
“Like a tigress,” said Cecil Laurens, and Molly started.
“I never thought of it before, but she is likethat,” she exclaimed. “She can be so sweet and purring, yet all the time you seem to feel that she has cruel claws hidden under her furred paws. She can be so hard, too—oh, you should see the letter she wrote me!”
“And you think I could fall in love with such a tiger-cat as you describe. Thank you,” he said, with frank pique.
“But perhaps you would notfeelthat the claws were there as Ido,” her large eyes dilating with earnestness.“You would see only that odd beauty and that grand air.”
“Copied from the theater,” he said, and Molly flushed hotly.
“Well, copied from the stage if you will,” she replied, curtly. “But all the same you would admire her, I am sure.”
“I should not,” he replied with decision, and Molly half laughed, then relapsed into seriousness and wrath again.
“Oh, how mean she was in that letter today! What a dig she gave me with her vicious claws! She ought to have known me better—ought to have been afraid—” she paused and bit her lips.
“What do you mean?” he asked, curiously, and a light of anger and resentment flashed all over the girlish face.
“Never mind,” she said. “Never mind, but I mean topay her back, that is all, and—no one can blame me now!”
He was gratified at seeing her mind set against that odious step-sister.
“Miss Barry, I am glad you have had your eyes opened to the worthlessness of that girl,” he said, earnestly. “Her mother was an adventuress who inveigled your father into a low marriage that alienated from him all his friends and relatives. It is most fortunate for you that Mrs. Barry relented after his death and decided to make you her heiress.”
“Oh, yes, very fortunate,” said Molly, but it distressed him to notice that her tone was distinctly sarcastic, and that she clinched her little fists again as if in a secret fury.
“I suppose,” he went on, excitedly, “that the girl is envious of your good fortune, hence her disagreeable letter to you.”
“Of course,” agreed Molly.
“Do not let her rancor trouble you. She is beneath the notice of a Barry. Her spleen is not worth paying back,” Cecil said.
“Oh, yes, it is, and I propose to pay her interest on the debt,” she replied, angrily, and for the present he saw that it would be useless to oppose her will. He decided to humor her whim.
“By all means pay her back then, and perhaps I can help you with the interest,” he said, lightly.
“Thank you; I was counting on your assistance,” she replied, with a strange smile, and in a tone of decided earnest.
The dark eyes met his with a look of triumph he could not understand.
“What can I do to help you to your vengeance?” he asked, but she shook her head and made no reply.