Phebe planted herself aggressively in front of Miss Barry.
“You must please go out and not disturb my sick mistress any longer,
ma’am,” she said politely, but firmly.
Louise measured her from head to foot with an insolent glance of the
handsome yellow-brown eyes.
“Nonsense, woman,” she replied curtly. “I came here to have a private
conversation with my step-sister, and I intend to do so. Therefore, the
longer you remain and hinder my desire, the longer I shall stay here
and annoy you.”
Phebe looked decidedly belligerent, as she exclaimed:
“Shall I put her out of the room and lock the door, Mrs. Laurens? I’ll
do it if you say the word.”
Molly looked sorely tempted to say yes, but she turned again to Louise.
“_Will_ you go away and leave me in peace? I do not want to have any
trouble with you, Louise,” she said, pleadingly.
“I will not go until I get ready. You ought to know me better, Molly,
than to oppose me like this. You know, of old, that I always have my
own way.”
“Yes, you have always done so--to my despair and destruction,” Molly
groaned, bitterly, but Louise gave an incredulous laugh.
“I had nothing to do with your marrying Cecil Laurens,” she observed,
dryly.
“You made it impossible for me to decline doing so without putting your
interest in jeopardy,” Molly retorted.
“I think I told you I would not discuss private matters before your
maid, Molly. Are you ready to send her away?”
“Since I can not get rid of you without--yes,” cried Molly, petulantly,
overruled as she had always been by the other’s despotic will.
“You may retire a few moments, Phebe; but remain within call,” she said
to the maid, who went out reluctantly, and with a resentful toss of her
head toward Miss Barry.
Then they looked fixedly at each other, the handsome, insolent woman
and the pale, wretched girl.
“Oh, Louise, how did you have the heart to do all that you have done?”
Molly cried out, passionately.
“You can ask me that? After your treachery to Cecil Laurens?”
scornfully.
“You were to blame. Why did you make me stay there when I begged to
come away? I shall tell Cecil everything, and then he can not in
justice be so hard on me,” Molly exclaimed, passionately; but she
shrank from the cold, cruel smile that curled the red lips of her
handsome step-sister.
“You will tell him nothing. He would not believe you if you went down
on your knees to him. Besides, I wonder how you can think of telling
him anything, of ever seeing him again even, when he has deserted you
and gone away rejoicing that you were not his wife, and refusing to
repair your disgrace.”
A low, anguished moan was the only reply of the girl whose face was
buried in the bed-clothes, for those low, stinging words had maddened
her with shame.
Louise went on, icily:
“I came here this morning to offer to help you in your arrangements for
going away. I expected to find you gone already indeed, for how can you
have the hardihood to stay here in Cecil Laurens’ house after what has
happened? He is nothing to you, less than nothing!”
“Hush, Louise! I am his wife in the sight of Heaven!” the wretched wife
cried out in passionate denial, and the utter agony of her face might
have moved a heart of stone, but Louise Barry was pitiless.
“Nonsense!” she said, curtly. “Your marriage under a false name and
identity is utterly void in law, and Cecil Laurens was quick to take
advantage of the fact. You are a disgraced creature, and nothing
remains to you but flight to some far secluded spot, where none who
know you now can ever hear of you again.”
Molly sat upright among her pillows, and her eyes flashed resentfully.
“Oh, yes, that is what you would like!” she exclaimed. “You want to
hustle me out of sight somewhere, thinking that I shall never have
the opportunity of telling Cecil the part you took in sending me to
Ferndale under a borrowed identity; but I shall tell him _all_ when I
see him again, and then he shall judge between us.”