“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.
CHAPTER XI.
Days came and went, and Cecil Laurens was a daily visitor at Ferndale, filled with the laudable desire to please his old friend, Mrs. Barry, by making time pass pleasantly for her niece. At least, that was the reason he assigned to himself when he set out every morning for a canter with Molly over the rough mountain roads, in the golden June weather.