“I don’t want you to talk to me. I won’t send Phebe away!” Molly cried out, defiantly, with flashing eyes. CHAPTER XXIII. 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: