BARBARA
He looked at her in some surprise. She had set her teeth, and her hands were tightly clasped upon her knees, but her eyes were looking straight before her and gave no sign of any emotion.
“Why, Barbara,” he said, “’tis truly a mighty hatred you have for the fellow! I thought if you were rid of him—”
“I despise him!” she cried, vehemently. “I hate him!”
Captain Ferrers paused a moment, and the smile that crossed his lips told her how sweet her words sounded in his ears.
“Ever since he has been in London,” she went on, coolly, “he has crossed my path at every rout and levee. Wherever I’d turn I’d see his eyes fixed upon me. From such a man it was an insult. His attentions were odious.” She gave a hard, dry little laugh. “Why could he not have been killed then—before he told me this fine tale of his right to my fortunes and estates—”
“But surely you don’t believe—” Ferrers broke in.
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