Music was his one passion, and he had devoted years to its study. He played now a low _andante_ movement, full of grace and sweetness and tenderness that soothed his own perturbed spirit, and made him momentarily forget the audacious girl who had disturbed him. Gliding from one melody into another, he paused, at last, with a sudden remembrance, and, turning his head, saw Molly close beside him. The music had drawn her against her will by a strange, magnetic power. All the anger had died from her face and eyes, leaving a dreamy softness in its place. “So I have soothed your savage spirit?” he exclaimed, with a smile, and Molly started and blushed. “I--I--am fond of music,” she stammered. “Perhaps you will play for me now?” he said, rising. “Oh, no!” starting back, and just then Mrs. Barry came in. “I have been playing to your little girl,” Cecil Laurens said to her, with a smile. “She may look like a little girl, but she is a grown-up young lady, Cecil,” Mrs. Barry answered, quickly, and Molly cried out, vexedly: “I am not! I won’t be seventeen till August.” Mrs. Barry glared at her displeasedly. “Only hear her, Cecil! pretending to be a school-girl still! I never _could_ understand why girls try to make themselves out younger than they really are. I am sure there is not such a charm in callow youth as they think,” she said, tartly. Molly was already biting her lips in dismay. “Aunt Thalia, I was jesting,” she said, soberly, without glancing at Cecil Laurens. She was asking herself if he would betray her to her aunt, if he would accuse her then and there of that “lark” which she shuddered to remember now; but apparently he meant to put it off to some more convenient season, for presently he said good-night and went away without alluding to the subject. Molly drew a sigh of relief as he left, but his blue eyes and his wondrous music haunted her perturbed dreams that night. CHAPTER VIII. Next morning she said to Mrs. Barry: “Aunt Thalia, I think I should enjoy my visit much more if I might ride horseback.” “Can you ride?” looking up from her breakfast of fried chicken and hot rolls. “I have been on a horse’s back only once, but I can easily learn if you will let me have a horse,” Molly answered, confidently, and a sudden light broke over Mrs. Barry’s face. “The very thing,” she exclaimed. “I’m glad you thought of it. Cecil Laurens shall teach you.” “Oh, no, no,” Molly cried, in consternation. “I won’t ride with him. I’ll go alone.” “But Cecil will be perfectly willing, child, and he is a splendid equestrian.” “But I hate him--I mean I don’t like men,” exclaimed the girl, flushing under Mrs. Barry’s gorgon stare. “Louise Barry, you are a goose! I shall never cease to regret that Lucy Everett had the training of you. Any other girl would be glad of the chance of Cecil Lauren’s company. He is the richest and finest young man in the state.” “I--don’t--like--young men, auntie.”