MONA

Or, The Secret of a Royal Mirror

by

MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON

Author of _Virgie's Inheritance_, _A True Aristocrat_, _Trixy_, _Lost APearle_, _Helen's Victory_, etc. 

1891

CHAPTER I. 

A FASCINATING YOUNG WIDOW OPENS THE STORY. 

"Appleton, don't look quite yet, but there's a woman just behind you whomI want you to see. I never before saw such a face and figure! They aresimply perfection!"

The above remarks were made by a young man, perhaps thirty years of age, to his companion, who, evidently, was somewhat his senior. 

The two gentlemen were seated at a private table in the dining-room of alarge hotel in Chicago, Illinois, and were themselves both handsome anddistinguished in appearance. 

"There!" the speaker continued, as a slight commotion near them indicatedthat some one was rising from a table; "she is about to leave the room, and now is your chance. "

The gentleman addressed turned to look as the lady passed; but the momentshe was beyond the possibility of hearing he broke into a laugh ofamusement. 

"Oh, Cutler!" he exclaimed; "I never would have believed that you couldrave so over a red-head--you who all your life have held such hair indetestation!"

"Well, " returned Mr. Cutler, flushing guiltily, "I acknowledge that Ihave always had a peculiar aversion to red hair; but, truly, hers is anunusual shade--not a flaming, staring red, but deep and rich. I never sawanything just like it before. Anyhow, she is a magnificent, specimen ofwomanhood. See! what a queenly carriage! what a figure!" and his glancefollowed the lady referred to, lingeringly, admiringly. 

"Yes, she certainly is a fine-looking woman, " his companion admitted;"and, if I am any judge, the diamonds she wears are worth a smallfortune. Did you notice them?"

"No; I saw only herself, " was the preoccupied response. 

"Aha! I see you are clean gone, " was the laughing rejoinder of Mr. Appleton. 

The lady referred to was indeed a strangely attractive person. She wasrather above the medium height, straight as an arrow, with a perfectlymolded figure, although it was somewhat inclined to _embonpoint_, while her bearing was wonderfully easy and graceful. Her complexion wasexquisitely fair, her features round, yet clearly cut and regular. Shehad lovely eyes of blue, with a fringe of decided, yet not unbecomingred upon their white lids, while her hair was also a rich but strikingred, and was worn short, and curled about; her fair forehead and downaround her alabaster neck in bewitching natural rings. 

She was apparently about twenty-five or twenty-eight years of age, withall the strength and _verve_ of perfect health in her movements. She wasdressed wholly in black, which served but to enhance her fairness, whilein her ears and at her throat she wore peculiar ornaments shaped likesmall crescents, studded with diamonds, remarkable for their purityand brilliancy. 

For several days Mr. Cutler and Mr. Appleton sat at the same table, andwere quietly observant of this lovely woman. 

She came and went, apparently unconscious of their notice or admiration, was gently dignified in her bearing and modest in her deportment, and thetwo gentlemen became more and more interested in her. 

Upon inquiring, they learned that she was a young widow--a Mrs. Bently, whose husband had recently died very suddenly. He was supposed to havebeen very wealthy, but, there being no children, there was some troubleabout the settlement of the property, and she was boarding in the cityuntil matters should be adjusted, when she contemplated going abroad. 

She seemed to be an entire stranger to every one, and very much alone, save for the companionship of a maid, by whom she was always attended, except at meal-time. Mr. Appleton was called from the city about ten daysafter his attention was first called to her, but his friend, Mr. Cutler, was still a guest at the hotel, and before the expiration of another weekhe had managed to make the acquaintance of the fascinating widow. 

The more he saw of her the more deeply interested he became, until hebegan to realize that his interest was fast merging into a sentiment of amore tender nature. 

Mr. Cutler was an energetic young broker, and report said that he wasrapidly amassing a fortune, and ere long would be rated rich among richmen. He was fine-looking, very genial and social in his nature, and so, of course, was a general favorite wherever he went. 

His admiration for Mrs. Bently soon became the subject of remark amonghis acquaintances at the hotel, and they predicted that the fair andwealthy widow would soon capture the gallant and successful broker. 

Six weeks spent in the attractive widow's society convinced Justin Cutlerthat she was as lovely in character as in person. She was remarkablysweet-tempered, very devout, and charitable beyond degree. She wouldnever listen to or indulge in gossip of any kind; on the contrary, shealways had something kind and pleasant to say to every one. 

Upon several occasions, Mr. Cutler invited her to attend the theatre, lectures and concerts, and she honored him by graciously accepting hisattentions; while, occasionally, he was permitted to accompany her tochurch. 

That faultless face, her unvarying amiability, her culture and wit, werefast weaving a spell about him, and he had decided to ask her to sharehis fate and fortune, when he suddenly missed her from her accustomedseat at the table, and failed to meet her about the house as usual. 

For three days he did not see anything of her, and he began to be deeplytroubled and anxious about her. He could not endure the suspense, andmade inquiries for her. He was told that she was ill, and this, ofcourse, did not relieve his anxiety. 

On the fourth day, however, she made her appearance again at dinner, butlooking so pale and sad, that his heart went out to her with deepertenderness than ever. 

He waited in one of the parlors until she came out from the dining-room. She made her appearance just as a lady, one of the hotel guests, wasleaving the room. With eagerness he stepped forward to greet her, andthen, with kind solicitude, inquired regarding her recent illness. 

"Thank you, Mr. Cutler; I have not been really ill, " she said, with apathetic little quiver of her red lips, "but--I am in deep trouble; Ihave had bad news. "

"I am very sorry, " returned the young broker, in a tone of earnestsympathy. "Shall I be presuming if I inquire the nature of yourill-tidings?"

She smiled up at him gratefully. 

"Oh, no, and you are very kind. It--it is only a business trouble, " shesaid, a vivid flush dyeing her fair cheek; "but being a woman, perhaps Icannot meet it with quite the fortitude of a man. "

"Can I help you in any way?" the gentleman asked, eagerly. "Come into thelittle reception-parlor yonder--there is no one there--and confide in me, if you will honor me so far. "

The fair widow took the arm he offered her, and he led her within theroom, and shut the door. 

"Sit here, " he said, placing a comfortable rocker for her, then he satopposite her, and waited for her to open her heart to him. 

"You know, " she began, falteringly, "that I have lost my husband; he diedseveral months ago, and there has been some trouble about the settlementof his estate. 

"His relatives contested the will, but my lawyer has always assured methat he could at least secure a handsome amount for me, even if he couldnot win the whole. But the first of this week, I learned that I am tohave almost nothing--that there was not nearly as much as at firstsupposed, and Mr. Bently's relatives will get that: and so--I ampenniless. "

"Oh, not so badly off as that, I hope!" exclaimed Mr. Cutler, lookinggrave. 

"It is true. My lawyer's charges will take every dollar that is coming tome, and--oh! it is humiliating to tell you of it--I owe a great deal ofmoney here at this hotel, besides. I never dreamed, " she went on, hurriedly, and flushing hotly again, "but that I could pay my bills. Ithought that I should have a large fortune, and I--I am afraid that Ihave been very extravagant: but now--I do not know _what_ I shall do. "

Mr. Cutler saw that she was in a very perplexing situation, and sheseemed so crushed by it that all his tenderest sympathies were enlisted. 

"If you would allow me to lend you any amount, " he began, when the widowshowed him the first burst of temper that he had ever seen her exhibit. 

"Sir, do you suppose I would _borrow_ what I could never expect to pay?"she cried, with almost passionate scorn, and flushing to her temples. 

"I beg your pardon, " Justin Cutler returned, feeling almost as if he hadbeen guilty of an inexcusable insult; "believe me, I would not wish toput you under any obligation that would be burdensome. "

Then he asked himself if it would be safe for him to tell her of his lovethen and there, lay his fortune at her feet, and thus relieve her fromher present trouble and all anxiety for the future. 

But he feared she might resent the offer, coming at such a time--think itwas prompted more by pity than affection, and reject it as scornfully asshe had refused his offer of a loan. 

She was very attractive as she sat there before him, her white handsfolded on her lap, her eyes cast down in troubled thought, and a grievedexpression about her beautiful mouth, and he longed, with all theearnestness of his generous nature, to help her in this emergency. 

Suddenly his face lighted. 

"Are you willing to confide in me the amount of your indebtedness, Mrs. Bently?" he gently asked. 

She falteringly named a sum that staggered him, and told him that she hadindeed been very extravagant. 

"I--I have always had what I wanted. I have never had to count the costof anything, for my husband was very generous and indulgent, " sheapologized, with evident embarrassment, as she met his grave look. 

"May I make a practical suggestion without the fear of offending you?"the young man questioned, with some confusion. 

"Oh, if you would!" cried his companion, eagerly, her face brightening, while she uttered a sigh of relief, as if she expected that hissuggestion, whatever it might be, would lift the burden from her heart. 

"You have some very costly jewels, " Mr. Cutler remarked, the colordeepening in his cheek as he glanced at the flashing stones in her ears;"perhaps you would be willing to dispose of them and thus relieveyourself from your present embarrassment. "

"Oh, you mean sell my--my diamonds?" cried the lovely widow, with alittle nervous sob, and instantly her two white hands went up to herears, covering the blazing gems from his sight, while a painful flushleaped to her brow and lost itself beneath the soft rings of herburnished hair. 

"Yes, " pursued Mr. Cutler, wondering at her confusion. "If I am anyjudge, they are very valuable stones, and I suppose you might realize ahandsome sum upon them. "

He was secretly planning to redeem them and restore them to her later, ifshe should favorably regard his suit. 

"But--but;" and her confusion became intensified a hundred-fold, "theyaren't _real_. I'd be glad enough if they were, and would willingly sellthem to cancel my indebtedness, but they are only _paste_, although anexcellent imitation. "

Her companion regarded her with astonishment. 

"You surely do not mean that?" he exclaimed, "for if I ever saw purewhite diamonds, those which you wear are certainly genuine. "

"No, they are not, " she returned, shaking her head with a positive air. "I am very fond of diamonds and I had some very nice ones once, but theywere stolen from me just after my husband died. I could not afford toreplace them, just then, and I had these made to wear until I could doso. They were made in Paris, where they are very clever at such work. I hoped when my husband's estate was settled, I could have some realstones again; but, of course, I cannot _now_, " she regretfully concluded. 

"Will you allow me to examine them, please?" Mr. Cutler asked, still surethat the stones were genuine. 

Mrs. Bently unhesitatingly removed one of the crescent ornaments from herear and laid it in his hand. 

He examined it critically and was still confident that it was reallycomposed of precious gems. He believed that if she had had them made toorder to replace the stolen ones, either the jeweler had been guilty ofa wretched blunder, or else some friend had interposed to replace thejewels which she so regretted. 

"I am sure there is some mistake. I am confident that these are realdiamonds and very valuable, " he asserted, positively. 

"Oh, no, they are _not_, " she repeated, with grave assurance. 

Then she naïvely added, and with a little ripple of laughter:

"I am glad to know that they are so good an imitation as to deceive you. There is some comfort in that, although it is not pleasant to have toacknowledge the sham. "

Still her companion was not convinced. Surely no paste jewels everemitted such a brilliant white light as those which lay upon his palm, catching and reflecting the various colors about them in such dazzlinggleams. 

"Would you be willing to go with me to some reliable jeweler and havethem tested?" he asked. 

The lovely woman flushed crimson. 

"No, I couldn't do that; I should not like to--to have it known that Ihad been wearing such things, " she said. "To be sure, " she added, with aquick upward glance that made her companion thrill with secret joy, "Ihave confessed it to you, but you were so kind and sympathetic I--Itrusted you involuntarily. "

"Thank you, " Justin Cutler returned, a brilliant smile lighting his face, and he longed to open his heart to her, but deemed it better to wait awhile. "Then, if you would not like to go with me, will you trust thestones with me, and allow me to have them tested for you?"

"Of course I will, if you want to take that trouble; though, " she added, with a little skeptical laugh, as she removed the crescent from her otherear and gave it to him, "I assure you the trust isn't such a responsibleone as you imagine. "

"We shall see, " he smilingly responded, as he put the ornaments carefullyin his purse and arose, "I shall submit them to some reliable dealer indiamonds, get him to set a value upon them, and will inform you of theverdict this evening. "

"Thank you, Mr. Cutler--you are very kind to be so interested for me, "the beautiful woman gratefully murmured. 

"I would I might, " the young man began, eagerly, then suddenly checkedhimself and added, "might assist you in some way regarding your othertroubles. "

Again he had been on the point of declaring himself, but told himselfthat the moment was not a propitious one. 

"I am afraid it is too late for that, " she responded, with a sigh; "thecase is settled, and Mr. Bently's relatives have won. But, good-by--donot let me detain you longer. "

"I will see you again this evening, " he returned, adding, as he passedout of the room: "I will be very careful of your property, and hope tobring you a good report. "

Mrs. Bently shrugged her graceful shoulders indifferently, as if she hadno faith in his belief, and felt that it would be but a small loss if thejewels were never returned. Then, with a smile and a bow, she went upstairs to her own rooms. 

CHAPTER II. 

THE VICTIM OF A WOMAN'S WILES. 

Justin Cutler, after leaving the hotel, went directly to one of the firstjewelers of the city, a well-known diamond expert, and submitted Mrs. Bently's ornaments to his judgment. 

"They are remarkably fine stones. " Mr. Arnold remarked, after havingcarefully examined them through a microscope; "very pure and clear, mostof them without a flaw. So far as I can see, there is not one of themthat is in the least off-color. "

"I thought so, " was Mr. Cutler's inward and exultant comment; but hesimply asked, as if he accepted the man's verdict as a matter of course:"What is your estimate of their value?"

"Well, " said the jeweler, smiling, "if you wish to know their realvalue just for your own satisfaction, I can give it; but that mightconsiderably exceed the amount I should be willing to name in case youmight wish to dispose of them to me. "

"I understand, " Mr. Cutler returned; "but what would they be worth toyou--what would you be willing to give for the stones?"

Mr. Arnold considered the matter a few moments, and then named a sumwhich Mr. Cutler deemed a fair price under the circumstances, and onewhich he felt sure Mrs. Bently would be only too glad to secure in heremergency. 

"You make that offer for them, then--you will purchase them if the ladyagrees to take the sum you have named?" he asked. 

"Yes, and the offer shall be open for her acceptance or refusal for threedays. "

"Thank you; I will see you again before the time expires, " Mr. Cutlerreplied; and, taking up the diamonds, which Mr. Arnold had placed in asmall box, he put them carefully away in an inside pocket and left thestore. 

When he returned to his hotel he sent his card up to Mrs. Bently, with arequest that she would see him for a few moments in the reception-room. But he was greatly disappointed when the waiter returned and said thatthe lady was out. 

He had an engagement for the evening, and thus he would not be able tosee her until the next morning. He was somewhat troubled, for he did notlike to retain her diamonds over night; but since he could not returnthem to her, he judged they would be safer about his person than anywhereelse, and so did not remove them from his pocket. 

The next morning he was early in his place at breakfast-time andanxiously awaiting the appearance of Mrs. Bently. 

She soon came in, looking much brighter and fresher than she had been theday before, and he noticed that she was in her traveling-dress. 

Could she be contemplating leaving the hotel? he asked himself, with asudden sense of depression. 

She smiled and bowed as she passed him, and he remarked, in a low tone, as he returned her salutation:

"I will wait for you in the reception-room. "

She nodded assent, but a gleam of amusement shot into her expressiveeyes, which he interpreted to mean that she believed he had failed in hiserrand and would be obliged to acknowledge the truth of what she had toldhim about her ornaments. 

This thought greatly elated him, and he chuckled to himself as heimagined her astonishment when he should inform her of the offer of thediamond merchant. 

He soon finished his breakfast and repaired to the reception-room, wherehe drew forth his morning paper to while away the time until Mrs. Bentlyshould appear. 

But she did not hurry, and he began to grow impatient. Evidently she hadno faith in the genuineness of the stones, and had no intention ofspoiling her breakfast just to be told what she already knew. 

It was nearly half an hour before she came to him, but he could forgiveher for making him wait, for her greeting was unusually cordial, and sheseemed lovelier than ever in her pretty dress of dark gray trimmed withblack. It was made very high at the throat, and fitted her perfect formlike a glove. Her face was like a flawless pearl, and he had begun tothink the soft ruddy rings that crowned her milk-white brow and made herlook so youthful, the most beautiful hair in the world. 

He sprang to his feet, his face all aglow, and went forward to take thehand she extended to him. 

"I have such good news for you, Mrs. Bently, " he said, as he drew thelittle box from his pocket. "Your gems are real after all, " and heslipped them into her hand as he spoke. 

She lifted a startled, incredulous look to his face. 

"You cannot mean it--you are only jesting!" she cried. 

"Indeed no; I would not jest and I do mean just what I have said, " hepersisted. 

"Impossible! Why, Mr. Cutler, I gave less than ten dollars for thecrescents. "

The young man looked blank. 

"Then some one has made an expensive blunder, and set real diamonds foryou instead of paste. Where did you purchase them--or order them made?"

"Of Hardowin & Leroux, under the Palais Royal, Paris, less than a yearago, " Mrs. Bently promptly responded. 

"It does not seem possible that any one could have made such a costlymistake, " Justin Cutler said, looking perplexed. "It is almostincredible. "

"Yes, and I am just as astonished by your report, " his companion said, lifting the cover of the box and gazing upon the blazing stones. "They dolook wonderfully real, " she added, "and yet I can hardly believe, Mr. Cutler, that any one would be willing to purchase them and give me thevalue of diamonds. "

"But the gentleman to whom I submitted them--a jeweler and anexpert--made me an offer for them, " and he named the sum. 

"So much?" murmured the fair woman, flushing. "Ah, it would be such ahelp. "

"This offer, " Mr. Cutler resumed, "is to remain open to you for threedays, and you can take them to him within that time if you see fit, andMr. Arnold will give you the money. "

Mrs. Bently made a sudden gesture of repulsion, her head drooped, a flushswept up to her brow, and tears rushed to her eyes. 

"Poor little woman!" said Justin Cutler to himself, "it humiliates her tothink of selling her jewels--of course it must. "

Then he asked, after a moment of thought:

"Would you accept the amount that Mr. Arnold offered?"

"Why, yes, if--if you are sure that they are real, and think it would beright for me to do so, " she answered, with a somewhat troubled expressionon her fair face. 

"Of course it will be perfectly right; the man knew what he was talkingabout, for, as I told you, he is a diamond expert, and he examined themwith the utmost care. "

"The amount would be very acceptable, " said the fair widow, musingly, "and I shall be glad to sell them; but--"

"The thought of going personally to sell your jewels humiliates you, " thegenerous-hearted young man added; "then let me do it for you, and relieveyou of the disagreeable task. "

"How kind you are; how you read my very thoughts; but I do not like totrouble you, " murmured the beautiful woman, with a quiver of her red lipsand a thrilling glance. "And yet, " she continued, "I must have money atonce. I was going to my lawyer this morning to beg him to try and raisesomething for me in some way, for I must settle my bill here to-day. Ihave dismissed my maid and engaged a room at No. 10 ---- street, and amgoing there this afternoon. Oh! Mr. Cutler, it is very hard to be obligedto confess my poverty, " and she had to abruptly cease her remarks, inorder to preserve her self-control, for she seemed upon the point ofbreaking down utterly. 

"Mrs. Bently, " said the young man, with sudden impulse, "let me relieveyou from all unpleasantness; let me advance you the sum which Mr. Arnoldnamed; then I can take the crescents to him and he will make it rightwith me. "

A peculiar smile lingered about his lips as he concluded. 

"That is exceedingly kind of you, " Mrs. Bently said, gratefully, "but, truly, Mr. Cutler, I am almost afraid to take you at your word. "

"Why?"

"Because I have always regarded the crescents as paste, and--and I cannotquite divest myself of the idea even now, in spite of your assurance, "she answered, with a clouded brow. 

Her companion laughed aloud. 

"I will be responsible for their genuineness, " he returned. "See!" headded, drawing a card from his pocket and writing rapidly upon it. "Iwill give you this to ease your conscience. "

She took it and read:

"I, the undersigned, purchase of Mrs. Bently a pair of crescent ornamentswhich she affirms are paste, but which I am content to accept as genuine, for the sum agreed upon. "

The price was carried out in figures, and his full name signedunderneath. 

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. 

"You are determined to befriend me, in spite of my scruples, " shemurmured, brokenly. 

"I would gladly do a hundred-fold more for you, " he replied, with tenderearnestness. "Will you let me have the crescents now?"

"Yes, and thank you more than I can express, " she answered, with droopinglids. 

He drew forth a wallet filled with bills, and began to count out the sumhe had named. 

"Wait a moment, " said Mrs. Bently, the color mounting to her temples; "Ihave a handsome case for the ornaments. I will go and get it for you. "

She turned suddenly and vanished from his presence, before he could tellher he would rather take them in the little box. 

"How sensitive the poor child is!" he murmured, with a tender smile; "shecould not even bear to see me count out the money. "

Mrs. Bently soon returned with a handsome morocco case in her hands. 

"They look better in this, " she remarked, as she lifted the lid, andrevealed the crescents lying upon a rich black velvet bed; "and, " with anervous little laugh, "now that I know they are genuine, I really am veryloath to part with them, in spite of my necessity. "

She closed the case with a snap, and passed it to him, and he slipped aroll of crisp bank-bills into her hand. 

"This arrangement will smooth all difficulties, I trust, " he said, "andnow, " with a slight tremor in his voice, "I have a special favor to ask. May I come to see you at No. 10 ---- street?"

"Certainly, you may, Mr. Cutler, " she replied, lifting a bright, eagerface to him, "and I assure you I shall have a warmer welcome for no oneelse. I cannot tell you how grateful I am--"

"Do not speak of that, " he interposed. "I am amply repaid for anything Ihave done by seeing the look of trouble gone from your face. I must bidyou good morning now, but I shall give myself the pleasure of callingupon you very soon. "

He held out his hand to her, and she laid hers within it. He wassurprised to find it icy cold and trembling, but he attributed it toemotion caused by the parting with him. 

"Then I shall only say _au revoir_, " she responded, smiling. 

She looked so lovely that he longed to draw her within his arms and takea more tender leave of her, but again putting a curb upon himself, hesimply bowed, and left her, when with a quick, elastic step, she sweptup stairs to her own apartments. 

Justin Cutler was very busy all the morning, and did not find time to goto the jeweler's until the afternoon. 

He had no intention of disposing of the crescents--he simply wished totell him that he had himself concluded to purchase them, and then ask theprivilege of depositing them in Mr. Arnold's safe for a few days; forthey were to be his gift to the woman he loved, if she received his suitwith favor. 

The gentleman was in, and his eyes lighted as his glance fell upon thecase which Mr. Cutler laid upon the show-case, for he believed that, inpurchasing the crescents, he was going to get an unusually good bargain. 

"Ah, " he remarked, "the lady has decided to dispose of the stones?"

"Yes; but--" Mr. Cutler began, when he suddenly stopped, and gazed, astonished, at the man. 

He had taken the case, opened it, and started in dismay as he saw whatwere within, while a look of blank consternation overspread his face. 

Then he turned sternly, almost fiercely, upon the young man. 

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, in a threatening tone. "Didyou imagine you could cheat me in this miserable way? You have got holdof the wrong customer if you did. "

"What do you mean, sir?" inquired Mr. Cutler, amazed, but flushingangrily at being addressed so uncivilly. 

"These are not the stones you brought to me yesterday, " said Mr. Arnold, who was also very angry. 

"Sir!" exclaimed Justin Cutler, aghast, but with haughty mien. 

"They are nothing but paste, " continued the jeweler, eyeing the beautifulcrescents with disdain; "and, " he added, menacingly, "I've a mind to haveyou arrested on the spot for attempting to obtain money under falsepretenses. "

Mr. Cutler grew pale at this with mingled anger and a sudden fear. 

He reached across the counter and took the case from Mr. Arnold's hand. 

He turned the stones to the light. 

At the first glance they seemed to be all right--he could detect nothingwrong; for aught that he could see the crescents were the same which hehad submitted to the merchant the day before. But as he studied them moreclosely the gleam of the gems was entirely different--the fire of thegenuine diamond was lacking. 

"Can it be possible that I have been duped, swindled?" he exclaimed, withwhite lips and a sinking heart. 

"I should say, rather, that you were attempting to dupe and swindle someone else, " sarcastically retorted the diamond dealer. "The stones are aremarkably fine imitation, I am free to confess, and would easily deceivea casual observer; but if you have ever tried and succeeded in thisclever game before, you are certainly caught this time. "

"Mr. Arnold, I assure you that I am blameless in this matter--thatI honestly believed the jewels to be the same that I brought to youyesterday, " the young man said, with an earnest directness whichconvinced the gentleman that he spoke the truth. "I see now, " hecontinued, "that they are not; and"--a feeling of faintness almostoverpowering him as he realized all that this experience would costhim, aside from his pecuniary loss--"I have been outrageously deceivedand hoodwinked, for I have already advanced the sum you named to thewoman who wished to dispose of the diamonds. "

Mr. Arnold searched the manly face before him, and was forced to believein the truth of his statements. 

"If that is so, then you have indeed been wretchedly swindled, " he said;"for these crescents are but duplicates in paste of those I examinedyesterday. How did you happen to be so taken in?"

Mr. Cutler briefly related the circumstances, and when he concluded, Mr. Arnold remarked:

"The woman was an accomplished cheat, and led you on very adroitly. Yourmistake was in advancing the money for the stones; if you had broughtthese things to me first, you would have saved yourself this loss. Butof course she never would have allowed that; her game was to get themoney from you, and she worked you finely for it. "

Mr. Cutler groaned in spirit as he realized it all, and how he had tiedhis own hands by what he had written on the card that he had given to thewily woman. 

He kept this portion of the transaction to himself, however; he could notconfess how foolishly weak he had been. Surely his infatuation for thebeautiful widow had led him beyond all bounds of common sense and goodjudgment; but he had no one but himself to blame, and he must bear hisloss as best he could. His lost faith in womanhood was the heaviest partof it. 

"I sincerely regret having put you to so much trouble, Mr. Arnold, " hecourteously remarked, as he closed the jewel-case and put it out ofsight, "and as a favor, I would ask that you regard this matter asstrictly confidential. I have been miserably fooled, and met with aheavy loss, but I do not wish all Chicago to ring with the story. "

"You may trust me, and accept my assurance that I am sincerely sorry foryou, " the jeweler returned, in a tone of sympathy, and now entirelyconvinced of the honesty of the young man. "And let me tell you, "he added, "for your personal benefit, while examining those crescentsyesterday, I put a private mark on the back of the settings with asteel-pointed instrument; it was like this"--making a cipher on a cardand passing it to him. "If you should ever be fortunate enough to comeacross them again, you could identify them by it. "

"Thank you, " Mr. Cutler returned, as he put it carefully away. 

Then he wished the gentleman a polite good-day, and went out of thestore, a wiser, but a somewhat poorer, man than he had been the previousday. 

He was almost crushed by the wrong which had been perpetrated againsthim. He had been thoroughly and artfully deceived. Mrs. Bently--if indeedthat was her real name, which he doubted--had seemed such a modest andunassuming woman, so frank, and sweet, and ingenuous, that he would haveindignantly resented it had any one hinted to him that she was not allthat she appeared to be. 

He had never met any woman who possessed such power to charm him, and yetshe had never seemed to seek his notice--had never appeared to thrustherself upon him in any way. He had instead sought _her_ and beenespecially attracted to her by the very simplicity and naturalness of herdeportment; and this rude awakening to the fact of her duplicity wastherefore far more bitter than the loss of his money, although that wasconsiderable. 

He was greatly depressed, but, on leaving Mr. Arnold's store, heproceeded directly to the street and number which she had given as herfuture place of residence. It proved to be an empty house with the sign"To Rent" staring at him from several windows. 

He next sought for the lawyer who, Mrs. Bently had told him, hadconducted her business affairs. There was no such person to be found. 

Then, his indignation getting the better of his grief and disappointment, he sought a detective, told his story, and gave the case into his hands. 

"Keep the matter quiet, Rider, " he said, "but spare no expense to findthe woman. If she is a professional thief, she will try the same trick onsome one else; and though we may not be able to bring her to justice inthis case, since I so rashly tied my hands by giving her that writing, yet I should like to give my evidence against her for the benefit of someother unfortunate victim. "

Thus the matter rested for the time, and Justin Cutler once more threwhimself heart and soul into business, vowing that he would never trust awoman again. 

"But I'll keep the bogus crescents, to remind me of my folly, for ofcourse I shall never see the real ones again. "

Did he?

CHAPTER III. 

MONA. 

"Mona, come here, dear, please. "

A gentleman, of perhaps forty-five, looked up from the desk where hehad been writing, as he uttered this request; but his voice trembledslightly, and was replete with tenderness, as he spoke the name whichheads this chapter. 

The girl whom he addressed was sitting by a window on the opposite sideof the room, and she lifted her bright brown head and turned a pair ofdark, liquid eyes upon the speaker. 

"Yes, Uncle Walter, " she cheerfully responded, as, laying down her book, she arose and moved gracefully across the room toward the handsome, aristocratic-looking man at the desk, who watched her every motion witha fond intentness that betrayed a deep and absorbing affection for her. 

He frowned slightly, however, as she spoke, and a half-bitter, half-scornful smile curled his finely chiseled lips for an instant. 

The young girl was tall and exquisitely formed, but her face was one noteasily described. Her features were delicate and clearly defined, yetwith a certain roundness about them such as one sees in a faultlesslysculptured statue, while unusual strength of character was writtenindelibly upon them. Her hair was slightly curly, and arranged with acareful carelessness that was very becoming, while here and there a strayringlet, that had escaped the silver pin that confined it, seemed tocoquet with the delicate fairness of her neck and brow. 

Reaching her uncle's side, she laid one white hand upon his shoulder, then slid it softly about his neck. 

"What is it, Uncle Walter? What, makes you look so sober? Have I donesomething naughty that you are going to scold me for?" she concluded, playfully, as she bent forward and looked archly into his eyes. 

His face grew luminous instantly as he met her gaze, while he capturedher small hand and toyed with the rosy, taper fingers. 

"Do I look sober?" and a brilliant smile chased the gloom from lip andbrow. "I did not mean to, while you know I could not scold you if youwere ever so naughty, and you are never that. "

"Perhaps every one does not look upon me with your partial eyes, " thelovely girl returned, with a musical little laugh. 

The man carried the hand he held to his lips and kissed it lingeringly. 

"Let me see, " he remarked, after thinking a moment, "isn't it somebody'sbirthday to-day?"

"So it is! but I had not thought of it before, " exclaimed the maiden, with a lovely flush sweeping into her cheeks. "And, " with a far-away lookin her eyes, "I am eighteen years old. "

"Eighteen!" and Walter Dinsmore started slightly, while a vivid redsuddenly dyed his brow, and a look of pain settled about his mouth. 

But he soon conquered his emotion, whatever it might have been, andstrove to say, lightly:

"Well, then, somebody must have a gift. What would you like, Mona?"

She laughed out sweetly again at the question. 

"You know I have very strange notions about gifts, Uncle Walter, " shesaid. "I do not care much about having people buy me pretty or costlythings as most girls do; I like something that has been made or wornor prized by the giver--something that thought and care have beenexercised upon. The little bouquet of blue-fringed gentians which youwalked five miles to gather for me last year was the most precious giftI had; I have it now, Uncle Walter. "

"You quaint child!" said the man, with a quiver of strong feeling inhis tone. "You would like something prized by the giver, would you?" headded, musingly. "Well, you shall be gratified. "

He turned again to his desk as he spoke, unlocked and pulled out adrawer. 

"Would you like this?" he asked, as he uncovered a box about eight inchessquare. 

"Why, it is a mirror! and what a queer one!" exclaimed the maiden, as shebent forward to look, and found her lovely, earnest face reflected from asquare, slightly defaced mirror that was set in an ebony frame richlyinlaid with gold and pearl. 

"Yes, dear, and it once belonged to Marie Antoinette. Doubtless itreflected her face many times during the latter half of the last century, as it now reflects yours, my Mona, " said Mr. Dinsmore. 

"To Marie Antoinette?" repeated Mona, breathlessly, "to the Queen ofFrance? and would you give it to me--_me_, Uncle Walter?"

"Yes, I have kept it for you many years, dear, " the man answered, butturning away from her eager, delighted eyes and glowing face, as ifsomething in them smote him with sudden pain. 

"Oh! thank you, _thank_ you! It is a priceless gift. What can I say? Howcan I show you how delighted I am?" Mona cried, eagerly. 

"By simply accepting it and taking good care of it, and also by givingme your promise that you will never part with it while you live, " Mr. Dinsmore gravely replied. 

"Of _course_ I would never part with it, " the young girl returned, flushing. "The mere fact of your giving it to me would make it precious, not to mention that it is a royal mirror and once belonged to thatbeautiful but ill-fated queen. How did it happen to come into yourpossession, Uncle Walter?"

The man grew pale at this question, but after a moment he replied, thoughwith visible effort:

"It was given to your great grandmother by a Madame Roquemaure, anintimate friend, who was at one time a lady in waiting at the court ofLouis the Sixteenth. "

"What was her name?" eagerly asked Mona--"my grandmother's, I mean. "

"She was a French lady and her maiden name was Ternaux, and when herfriend, Madame Roquemaure, died, she bequeathed to her this mirror, whichonce graced the dressing-room of Marie Antoinette in the Tuileries. "

"What a prize!" breathed Mona, as she gazed reverently upon the royalrelic. "May I take it, Uncle Walter?"

"Certainly, " and the man lifted it from the box and laid it in her hands. 

"How heavy it is!" she exclaimed, flushing and trembling with excitement, as she clasped the precious treasure. 

"Yes, the frame is of ebony and quite a massive one, " said Mr. Dinsmore. 

"It looks like a shallow box with the mirror for a cover; but of courseit isn't, as there is no way to get into it, " observed the young girl, examining it closely. 

Her companion made no reply, but regarded her earnestly, while his facewas pale and his lips compressed with an expression of pain. 

"And this has been handed down from generation to generation!" Mona wenton, musingly. "Have you had it all these years, Uncle Walter--ever sinceyou first took me?"

"Yes, and I have been keeping it for you until you should reach youreighteenth birthday. It is yours now, my Mona, but you must never partwith it--it is to be an heir-loom. And if you should ever be married, if you should have children, you are to give it to your eldest daughter. And, oh! my child, " the agitated man continued, as he arose and laid hishands upon her shoulders and looked wistfully into her beautiful face, "I hope, I _pray_, that _your_ life may be a happy one. "

"Why, Uncle Walter, how solemn you have grown all at once!" cried theyoung girl, looking up at him with a smile half startled, half gay, "Onewould think you were giving me some sacred charge that is to affect allmy future life, instead of this lovely mirror that has such a charmingand romantic history. I wish, " she went on, thoughtfully, "you would tellme just how you came to have it. Did it descend to you from your father'sor your mother's ancestors?"

The man sat down again before he replied, and turned his face slightlyaway from her gaze as he said:

"It really belonged to your mother, dear, instead of to me, for it hasalways been given to the eldest daughter on the mother's side; so, afteryour mother died, I treasured it to give to you when you should be oldenough to appreciate it. "

"I wish you would tell me more about my mother, Uncle Walter, " the younggirl said, wistfully, after a moment of silence. "You have never seemedwilling to talk about her--you have always evaded and put me off when Iasked you anything, until I have grown to feel as if there were somemystery connected with her. But surely I am old enough now, and have aright to know her history. Was she your only sister, and how did ithappen that she died all alone in London? Where was my father? and whywas she left so poor when you had so much? Really, Uncle Walter, I thinkI ought to insist upon being told all there is to know about my parentsand myself. You have often said you would tell me some time; why notnow?"

"Yes, yes, child, you are old enough, if that were all, " the manreturned, with livid lips, a shudder shaking his strong frame fromhead to foot. 

Mona also grew very pale as she observed him, and a look of apprehensionswept over her face at his ominous words. 

"Was there anything wrong about mamma?" she began, tremulously. 

"No, no!" Mr. Dinsmore interposed, almost passionately; "she was thepurest and loveliest woman in the world, and her fate was the saddest inthe world. "

"And my father?" breathed the girl, trembling visibly. 

"Was a wretch! a faithless brute!" was the low, stern reply. 

"What became of him?"

"Do not ask me, child, " the excited man returned, almost fiercely, butwhite to his lips, "he deserves only your hatred and contempt, as he hasmine. Your mother, as you have been told, died in London, a much wrongedand broken-hearted woman, where she had lived for nearly three months inalmost destitute circumstances. The moment I learned of her sad conditionI hastened to London to give her my care and protection; but she wasgone--she had died three days before my arrival, and I found only a weelittle baby awaiting my care and love. "

A bitter sob burst from the man's lips at this point, but afterstruggling for a moment for self-control, he resumed:

"That baby was, of course, yourself, and I named you Mona for yourmother, and Ruth for mine. The names do not go together very well, but Iloved them both so well I wanted you to bear them, I gave you in chargeof a competent nurse, with instructions that everything should be donefor your comfort and welfare; then I sought to drown my grief in traveland constant change of scene. When I returned to London you were nearlytwo years old and a lovely, winning child, I brought you, with yournurse, to America, resolving that you should always have the tenderestlove and care; and Mona, my darling, I have tried to make your life ahappy one. "

"And you have succeeded. Uncle Walter, I have never known a sorrow, youhave been my best and dearest friend, and I love you--I love you with allmy heart, " the fair girl cried, as she threw her arm about his neck andpressed her quivering lips to his corrugated brow. 

Mr. Dinsmore folded her close to his breast, and held her there in asilent embrace for a moment. 

But Mona's mind was intent upon hearing the remainder of his story; and, gently disengaging herself, she continued:

"But tell me--there is much more that I want to know. What was thereason--why did my father--"

She was suddenly cut short in her inquiries by the opening of a door andthe entrance of a servant. 

"There is a caller for you in the drawing-room, Miss Mona, " the girlremarked, as she extended to her the silver salver, on which there lay adainty bit of pasteboard. 

Mona took it and read the name engraved upon it. 

"It is Susie Leades, " she said, a slight look of annoyance sweeping overher face, "and I suppose I must go; but you will tell me the rest someother time, Uncle Walter? I shall never be content until I know all thereis to know about my father and mother. "

"Yes--yes; some other time I will tell you more, " Mr. Dinsmore said, butwith a sigh of relief, as if he were glad of this interruption in themidst of a disagreeable subject. 

"I will leave the mirror here until I come back, " Mona said, as she laidit again in its box in the drawer; then, softly kissing her companion onthe lips, she went slowly and reluctantly from the room. 

The moment the door had closed after her, Walter Dinsmore, the proudmillionaire and one of New York's most respected and prominent citizens, dropped his head upon the desk before him and groaned aloud:

"How can I ever tell her?" he cried. "Oh, Mona, Mona! I have tried todo right by your little girl--I have tried to make her life bright andhappy; must I cloud it now by revealing the wrong and sorrow of yours?_Must_ I tell her?"

A sob burst from him, and then for some time he lay perfectly still, asif absorbed in deep thought. 

At length he lifted his head, and, with a resolute look on his fine face, drew some paper before him and began to write rapidly. 

At the expiration of half an hour he folded what he had written, put itin an envelope, and carefully sealed it, then turning it over, wrote "ForMona" on the back. 

This done he took up the mirror which he had but just given the younggirl, pressed hard upon one of the pearl and gold points with which theframe was thickly studded, and the bottom dropped down like a tinydrawer, revealing within it a package composed of half a dozen lettersand a small pasteboard box. 

The man was deadly pale, and his hands trembled as he took these out andbegan to look over the letters. 

But, as if the task were too great for him, he almost immediatelyreplaced them in their envelopes, and restored them to the drawer in themirror. Then he uncovered the little box, and two small rings wereexposed to view--one a heavy gold band, the other set with a whole pearlof unusual size and purity. 

"Poor Mona!" he almost sobbed, as he touched them with reverent fingers. "I shall never be reconciled to your sad fate, and I cannot bring myselfto tell your child the whole truth, at least not now. I will tell hersomething--just enough to satisfy her, if she questions me again--therest I have written, and I will hide the story with these things in themirror; then in my will I will reveal its secret, so that Mona can findthem. She will be older, and perhaps happily settled in life by the timeI get through, and so better able to bear the truth. "

He replaced the box and letters in the secret drawer of the mirror, alsothe envelope which contained what he had written, after which hecarefully closed it, and returned the royal relic to the box in his desk. 

"There! everything is as safe as if it were buried in Mona's grave--noone would ever think of looking for that history in such a place, and thesecret will never be disclosed until I see fit to reveal it. "

He had scarcely completed these arrangements when Mona re-entered theroom, her face bright and smiling, a lovely flush on her cheeks, abrilliant light in her liquid brown eyes. 

"Well, my pet, you look pretty enough to kiss, " exclaimed Mr. Dinsmore, assuming a lightness of manner which he was far from feeling. "Have youhad a pleasant call?"

"Indeed I have, Uncle Walter, and I have also had an invitation to attendthe opera to-night, " Mona replied, with increasing color. 

"Ah! then I imagine that Miss Susie did not come alone, eh?" and Mr. Dinsmore smiled roguishly. 

"No; Mr. Palmer was with her; and just as they were at the door, hediscovered that he had forgotten his cards, so he just penciled his nameon the back of Susie's; but I did not see it, and of course did not knowhe was here until I went into the drawing-room, " the young girlexplained. 

"Palmer! Ray Palmer, the son of Amos Palmer, the diamond merchant?"questioned Mr. Dinsmore. 

"Yes, I have met him a number of times during the past year, and atSusie's birthday party last week he asked permission to call. May I goto-night, Uncle Walter?" Mona asked, with downcast eyes. 

"Who else is to be in the party?" gravely inquired her uncle. 

"Susie, and Louis, her brother. "

"Then I have no objection to your going also, " said Mr. Dinsmore; thenhe added, as he searched the beautiful face beside him: "I know thatRay Palmer is an exceptionally fine young man, and any girl might feelhonored in receiving his attentions. Is he agreeable to you, Mona?"

A vivid scarlet suffused the maiden's face at this pointed question, andthe gentleman laughed out softly as he beheld it. 

"Never mind, dear, " he continued, lightly. "I am already answered, andMr. Ray Palmer has my best wishes for his future success and happiness. There, run back now, and tell your callers that you will join theirparty. "

A shy, sweet smile wreathed Mona's lips as she again left the room. 

But she was not gone, long--scarcely five minutes had elapsed before shereturned, and gliding to Mr. Dinsmore's side, she said, with quietresolution:

"Now, Uncle Walter, I want to hear the remainder of what you have to tellme about my father and mother. "

CHAPTER IV. 

MONA ASKS SOME PERTINENT QUESTIONS. 

Mr. Dinsmore's face clouded instantly at Mona's request, but afterthinking a moment, he threw back his head with a resolute air, and said:

"There is not so very much more to tell, Mona--it is the oft repeatedstory of too much love and trust on the part of a pure and lovely woman, and of selfish pleasure and lack of principle on the part of the manwho won her. When your mother was eighteen--just your age to-day, dear--she fell in love with Richmond Montague, and secretly married him. "

"Then she was _legally_ his wife!" burst forth Mona, with pale andtrembling lips. "Oh, I have so feared, from your reluctance to tell me mymother's history, that--that there was some shame connected with it. "

"No--no, dear child; set your heart at rest upon that score. She waslegally married to Richmond Montague; but his first sin against her wasin not making the fact public. He was just starting on a tour abroad andpersuaded her to go with him. He claimed that he could not openly marryher without forfeiting a large fortune from an aunt, whose only heir hewas, and who was determined that he should marry the daughter of alife-long friend. She was in feeble health and wanted him to be marriedbefore he went abroad, as she feared she might not live until he shouldcome back. This he refused to do, although he allowed her to believe thathe intended to marry Miss Barton upon his return. But he did marry yourmother, and they sailed for Europe. 

"They spent a few months traveling together, but while they were inParis, your father suddenly disappeared, and it became evident to yourmother that she had been deserted. To make matters worse, the peopleof the house where they had been living became suspicious of her, accusedher of having been living unlawfully, and drove her away. She wasdesperate, and went directly to London, intending to return to America, but was taken ill there, and was unable to go on. 

"Three months later I learned, indirectly, of her wretched condition, andI hastened to her, as I have already told you, only to find that I wastoo late--she had died just three days before my arrival, and only a fewhours after your birth. Oh, Mona! I was heartbroken, for she was all Ihad, and the knowledge of her wrongs and sufferings drove me nearly wild;but--I cannot live over those wretched days--I simply _endured_ them thenbecause I could not help myself. But, as time passed, I gradually learnedto love _you_--you became my one object in life, and I vowed that I woulddo everything in my power to make your life happy, for your mother'ssake, as well as for your own, " he concluded in tremulous, husky tones, while tears stood in his eyes. 

"Dear Uncle Walter, no one could have been more kind than you have been, "the young girl said, nestling closer to him; "you have been both fatherand mother to me, and I am very grateful--"

"Hush, Mona! Never speak of gratitude to me, " he said, interrupting her, "for you have been a great comfort to me; you have, indeed, taken theplace of the little girl who never lived to call me father--and--havehelped me to bear other troubles also, " he concluded, flushing hotly, while a heavy frown contracted, his brow. 

Mona glanced at him curiously, and wondered what other troubles she hadhelped him to bear; but her mind was so full of her own family historyshe did not pay much attention to it then. The remark recurred to herlater, however. 

"There is one thing more, Uncle Walter, " she said, after a thoughtfulpause. "What became of my father?"

Her companion seemed to freeze and become rigid as marble at thisquestion. 

"I wish you would not question me any further, Mona, " he said, in aconstrained tone. "Your father forfeited all right to that title from youbefore your birth. Cannot you be satisfied with what I have alreadytold you?"

"No, I cannot, " she resolutely replied. "Where did he go? What happenedto him after my mother died? Has he ever been heard of since?" were thequick, imperative queries which dropped from her lips. 

"Oh, yes, " said Mr. Dinsmore, replying to the last query; "he marriedMiss Barton--the girl his aunt had chosen for him--shortly after hisreturn to this country. The woman had set her heart upon the match, anddied a month after the marriage, leaving her nephew the whole of herfortune. "

"Did he--my father--know that he had a child living?" demanded Mona, in aconstrained tone. 

"Certainly. "

"And--and--" she began, with crimson cheeks and blazing eyes, then chokedand stopped. 

"I know what you would ask--'did he ever wish to claim you?'"supplemented her companion, a bitter smile curling his white lips. "Ihave never been asked to give you up, Mona, " he continued, apparentlyputting it thus so as to wound her as little as possible; "but I shouldnot have done so under any circumstances. "

"Did he never offer to settle anything upon me out of his abundance?" theyoung girl asked, bitterly. 

"No; no settlement, no allowance was ever made, I alone have cared foryou. But do not grieve--it has been a very delightful care to me, dear, "Mr. Dinsmore said, tenderly, while he stroked her soft hair fondly witha hand that was far from steady. 

"Is the--man living now?" Mona demanded, a cold glitter in her usuallygentle eyes. 

Mr. Dinsmore threw out his hand with a gesture of agony at this question. 

Then suddenly pulling himself together, he hoarsely responded:

"No. "

But he turned his face away from her gaze as he said it. 

"When and where did he die?"

"Do not ask me. Oh, Mona, for pity's sake, ask me nothing more. Icannot, I will not bear this inquisition any longer, " the man cried, in a despairing tone. 

The young girl's face blanched suddenly at this, and she turned a wild, startled look upon her companion, as a terrible suspicion flashed intoher mind. 

Had her uncle avenged her mother's wrongs?--was his hand stained with herfather's blood, and was this the reason why he was so fearfully agitatedin speaking of these things?

It was an awful thought, and for a moment, every nerve in her bodytingled with pain. All her strength fled, and she dared not question himfurther on that point, for her own sake, as well as his. 

There was a dead silence for several moments, while both struggled forthe mastery of their emotions; then Mona said, in a low, awed tone:

"Just one thing more, Uncle Walter--is--his other wife living?"

"I believe so. "

"Where is she?"

"I do not know. "

"Did she care nothing for me?"

"No, she hated your mother, and you a hundred-fold on her account. "

"That is enough--I have heard all that I wish, " Mona said, coldly, as shestarted to her feet and stood erect and rigid before him. "You said trulywhen you told me that the man deserved hatred and contempt. I do hate andscorn him with all the hate and strength of my nature. I am glad he isdead. Were he living, and should he ever seek me, I would spurn him as Iwould spurn a viper. But oh, Uncle Walter, you must let me lean upon youmore than ever before, for my heart is very, very sore over the wrongthat has been done my poor mother and me. How good you have been tome--and I love you--I will always love and trust you, and I will neverask you any more questions. "

She flung her arms around his neck, buried her face in his bosom, andburst into a passion of tears. The sorrowful story to which she hadlistened, and the fearful suspicion which, at the last, had so appalledher, had completely unnerved her. 

The man clasped her to him almost convulsively, though a strong shuddershook his frame, laid his own face caressingly against her soft brownhair, and let her weep until the fountain of her tears was exhausted, and he himself had become entirely composed once more. 

"My dear child, " he said, at last, "let these be the last tears you evershed for the wrong done you. I beg you will not allow the memory of it tomake you unhappy, my Mona; for as I have assumed a father's care for youin the past, so I shall continue to do in the future; you shall neverwant for anything that I can give you while I live, and all that I havewill be yours when I am gone. I have made an appointment with my lawyerfor the day after to-morrow, " he went on, in a more business-like tone, "when I purpose making my will, giving you the bulk of my property. Iought to have done this before; but--such matters are not pleasant tothink about, and I have kept putting it off. Now dry your tears, my dear;it pains me to see you weep. And here, " he added, smiling, and forcinghimself to speak more lightly, "I almost forgot that I had something elsefor your birthday. Come, try on these trinkets, for you must wear them tothe opera to-night. "

He took a case from his pocket as he spoke, and slipped it into herhands. 

Mona looked up surprised. 

"But you have already given me the mirror, Uncle Walter, " she said. "Icould not have anything that I should prize more. "

"Ah, well, but I could not let a birthday go by without spending a littlemoney on you, " he returned, fondly; "so look at your gifts, and let mesee how they will fit. "

Mona obediently opened the case, and found within a pair of narrow goldbands, studded with diamonds, for her wrists. 

"They are lovely, " she cried, a smile of pleasure breaking over herface, "and--I really believe it is the very pair that I was admiringin Tiffany's window only a few days ago!"

"I shouldn't wonder--sometimes the fairies whisper maidens' wishes inolder ears, eh?" Mr. Dinsmore archly returned, and glad to see the gloomfading from her face. 

"The fairies are great tell-tales then, for you are continuallyanticipating my wishes, " Mona replied. "But, " she added, glancing at theclock, "I have some little things to attend to before going out thisevening, and I must be about them. A thousand thanks for my diamonds, "and she kissed him softly as she said it, "and I shall surely wear themto-night. "

"And here is your mirror, " he said, taking the box containing it from thedrawer of his desk. "Remember your promise, dear, never to part with it. "

"It shall never go out of my possession, " she gravely replied, as shetook it, and then quietly left the room. 

She was very grave as she went slowly up stairs, and once or twice along, sobbing sigh escaped her. 

"Oh, why did such a thought ever come to me?" she murmured. "It istoo dreadful, and I will not harbor it for a moment. He is good andnoble--his whole life has been grand and above reproach, and I lovehim with all my heart. "

That evening, about seven o'clock, Mona Montague went down to the elegantdrawing-room of her uncle's residence, exquisitely clad for the opera. 

Her dress was a fine black lace, of a delicate and beautiful pattern, made over old gold silk, with the corsage cut low and sleeveless, thusleaving her neck and arms to gleam like alabaster through the meshesof delicate lace. The heavy edging at the throat was just caught togetherwith a shell of Etruscan gold, studded with diamonds. Costly solitairesgleamed in her ears, while her dainty wrists were encircled with Mr. Dinsmore's gift of the morning. Upon her head she wore a jaunty hat ofblack lace, surrounded by a wreath of old gold crushed roses, thatcontrasted beautifully with her clear, fair skin and dark eyes. Herface was bright with anticipation, her cheeks were slightly flushed, andshe was a vision of loveliness to gladden the heart of any beauty-lovingman. 

"I have come down to receive your verdict, Uncle Walter, " she remarked, smiling, and sweeping him a graceful courtesy, as he threw down his paperand arose to meet her, "Will I do?"

His face lighted with love and pride as he ran his eye over her. 

"Really, Mona, " he said, "you make me almost wish that I were going tosee 'Il Trovatore' with you in Ray Palmer's place. You are a very queenof beauty to-night. "

Mona flushed as he uttered Ray Palmer's name, but she put up her lips tokiss him for his compliment, and at that moment the young man himself wasannounced. 

His eyes lighted with admiration, as he approached to salute thebeautiful girl, and a thrill of delight ran through him as he claspedthe hand she so cordially extended. 

He was several inches taller than Mona, and a young man of singularlynoble bearing, and perhaps twenty-three years of age. 

Dignity of character and sincerity of purpose were stamped upon everyfeature of his intelligent face, and gleamed from his frank, genial eyes, which met yours with a directness that won the heart and confidenceat once, while his manner and bearing as well as every detail of hisdress, betrayed the thorough gentleman. 

Mr. Dinsmore smiled complacently as he marked the exchange of greetingsbetween the two young people. He saw that Mona was deeply interested inher handsome escort, as her deepening color and drooping eyes plainlybetrayed. 

He followed them to the door, and wished them a genial good-night, afterwhich he went back to his library, saying to himself:

"I could wish nothing better for her. If I can but see her safely settledin life, I should have little to fear for the future, in spite of themiserable past. Young Palmer is a fine fellow, and I will favor his suitwith all my heart. Then, with my will signed and sealed, my mind will beat rest. "

Alas! alas! "Man proposes and God disposes. "

CHAPTER V. 

MONA'S APPALLING DISCOVERY. 

Mona Montague was very happy throughout that memorable evening as she satbeside Ray Palmer, and listened to the opera of "Il Trovatore. "

The four young people occupied a proscenium box, and made a veryinteresting group. Many a glass was turned upon them, many an eye studiedtheir bright, animated faces, and found the sight almost as entertainingas the scene being enacted upon the stage. 

To Ray Palmer's partial eye the fair girl beside him was the mostbeautiful object in the world, for he loved her with all his heart, and he made up his mind to win her if it were possible. 

When the opera was over, the quartet repaired to a fashionable _café_, where they had a delicious little supper, and spent another happyhalf-hour discussing the merits of "Il Trovatore"; then they separatedto go to their homes. 

"You have given me great pleasure this evening, Miss Montague, " RayPalmer remarked, as he lingered for a moment beside her at the door ofMr. Dinsmore's residence, and loath to bid her good-night. 

"Then I am sure the pleasure has been mutual, Mr. Palmer, for I haveenjoyed myself exceedingly, " Mona replied, as she lifted her flushed andsmiling face to him. 

"You are very kind to give me that assurance, " he returned, "and youembolden me to crave another favor. May I have your permission to callupon you occasionally?"

"I am only very happy to grant it; pray consider yourself welcome atany time, " Mona answered, cordially, but dropping her eyes beneath hisearnest look. 

"Thank you; I shall gladly avail myself of your kindness, " the young mangratefully responded; and then, with a lingering clasp of the hand, hebade her good-night and ran lightly down the steps. 

With a rapidly beating heart and throbbing pulses, Mona softly letherself in with a latch-key, turned out the hall gas, which had been leftburning dimly for her, and started to mount the stairs, when she espieda gleam of light shining beneath the library door. 

"Why! Uncle Walter has not gone to bed yet! Can it be that he is sittingup for me?" she murmured. "I will go and tell him that I have come in, and get my good-night kiss. "

She turned back and went quietly down the hall, and tapped lightly at thedoor. Receiving no response, she opened it, and passed into the room. 

The gas was burning brightly, and Mr. Dinsmore was sitting before hisdesk, but reclining in his chair, his head thrown back against the soft, bright head-rest, the work of Mona's skillful fingers. 

"He has fallen asleep, " said the fair girl, as she went to his side andlaid her hand gently upon his shoulder. 

"Uncle Walter, " she called, "why did you sit up for me? Wake up nowand go to bed, or you will be having one of your dreadful headachesto-morrow. "

But the man did not make or show any signs of having heard her. 

He was breathing heavily, and Mona now noticed that his face wasunnaturally flushed, and that the veins upon his temples were knottedand swollen. 

A startled look swept over her face, and she grew white with a suddenfear. 

"Uncle Walter!" she cried out, sharply, and trying to arouse him; "speakto me! Oh! there is something dreadful the matter with him; he is ill--heis unconscious!"

With a wild cry and sob of fear and anguish, she turned and sped withflying feet from the room. 

A moment later she was knocking vigorously at the door of theserving-man's room, begging him to "get up at once and go for DoctorHammond, for Mr. Dinsmore was very ill. "

Having aroused James, she called the other servants, and then flew backto her idolized uncle. 

There was no change in him; he sat and breathed just the same. Instinctively feeling that something ought to be done immediately for hisrelief, with trembling fingers she loosened his neck-tie, unbuttoned hiscollar, then drenching her handkerchief with water from an ice pitcher, she began to bathe his flushed and knotted forehead. 

She imagined that this afforded him some relief, and that his breathingwas not quite so labored, but his condition drove her nearly frantic withfear and anxiety. 

James was very expeditious in his movements, and in less than half anhour returned with the family physician. 

"Oh, Doctor Hammond, what is the matter with him?" Mona cried, with asinking heart, as she saw the grave expression that settled over thedoctor's face the moment he reached his patient's side. 

"An apoplectic attack, " he replied, thinking it best that she should knowthe truth, and so be somewhat prepared for what he feared must soon come. 

The unconscious man was borne to his chamber, and everything which humanskill could devise was done for him. He rallied somewhat toward morning, but Doctor Hammond gave them no hope that he would ever be any better, oreven retain his consciousness for any length of time. 

The whole of his right side was helpless, and his tongue was alsoparalyzed, so that he was entirely speechless. 

His efforts to talk were agonizing to witness, for he appeared to realizethat his hours were numbered, and seemed to have something special on hismind that he wished to make those around him understand. 

Mona alone, who never left his side, seemed able to interpret somethingof his meaning, and she asked him question after question trying to learnhis desire; but he could only slowly move his head to signify that shedid not yet understand. 

"Oh, what shall I do?" she moaned, in despair; then a bright thoughtflashed upon her. "Is there some one whom you wish to see, Uncle Walter?"she asked. 

His eyes lighted, and a faint nod of the head told her that she had gothold of the right thread at last. 

"Who is it?" she said, eagerly; then remembering his helplessness, sheadded: "I will say over the letters of the alphabet, and when I reachthe right one you must press my hand. "

This method proved more successful, and Mona finally spelled out the nameof Graves. 

"Graves--Graves, " she repeated, with a puzzled look; then she cried, herface lighting: "Oh, it is Mr. Graves, your lawyer, whom you want. "

Again the sufferer nodded, and weakly pushed her from him with his lefthand to show that he wanted her to be quick about summoning the man. 

In less than an hour Mr. Graves was in the sick-room, and by signs andquestions and Mona's use of the alphabet, he finally comprehended thatMr. Dinsmore wished him to draw up a will for him, leaving everything hehad to Mona. 

While the lawyer was thus engaged in the library, the invalid tried tomake Mona understand that there was something else he wished to tell her, and she spelled out the word "mirror. "

"Oh, you want me to remember my promise never to part with it--is thatit, Uncle?" she asked. 

"No, " he signaled, and looked so distressed that the much-tried girlsobbed outright. But she quickly controlled her grief, and finallyspelled the word "bring, " though her heart almost failed her as sherealized that his left hand was fast becoming helpless like the otherso that she could scarcely distinguish any pressure when she named aletter. 

But she flew to her room and brought the royal mirror to him, and hetried to make her understand that there was something he wished toexplain in connection with it. 

We who have learned the secret of it, know what he wanted, but he couldnot even lift his nerveless hand to show her the gilded point beneathwhich lay the spring that controlled the hidden drawer and its contents. 

Mona asked him question after question, but all that she could elicitwere sighs, while great tears welled up into the man's eyes and rolledover his cheeks; and when at last a groan of agony burst from him, shecould bear it no longer, and went weeping from the room, bearing theancient relic from his sight. 

She remained in her own room a few moments to compose herself beforegoing back to him, and during her absence, Mr. Graves went up to him withthe will which he had hastily drafted. 

Mr. Dinsmore had had some conversation with him, in a general way, aboutthe matter previous to this, and so he had drawn up the instrument tocover every point that he could think of. He read it aloud, and Mr. Dinsmore signified his satisfaction with it, and yet he looked troubled, as if it did not quite cover all that he desired. 

Doctor Hammond and the housekeeper were summoned to act as witnesses;then Mr. Graves placed the pen, filled with ink, within the sick man'sfingers, for him to sign the will. But he could not hold it--there wasno strength, no power in them. 

In vain they clasped them around it, and urged him to "try;" but theyinstantly fell away, the pen dropped upon the snowy counterpane making agreat, unsightly blotch of ink, and they knew that he was past puttinghis signature, or even his mark, to the will. 

As he himself realized this, a shrill cry of despair burst from him, andthe next instant he lapsed into unconsciousness from a second stroke. 

"The end has come--he will not live an hour, " gravely remarked DoctorHammond, as his skilled fingers sought the dying man's feeble pulse. 

In half that time Walter Dinsmore was dead, and Mona Montague was alonein the world. 

We will pass over the next few days, with their mournful incidents andthe despairing grief of the beautiful girl, who had been so sadly bereft, to the morning after the funeral ceremonies, when Mr. Graves, with Mr. Dinsmore's unsigned will in his pocket, called to consult with Monaregarding her uncle's affairs and her own plans for the future. 

He found her in the library, looking sad and heavy-eyed from almostincessant weeping, her manner languid and drooping. 

She was engaged in trying to make up some accounts which the housekeeperhad requested her to attend to, hoping thus to distract her mind somewhatfrom her grief. 

She burst into tears as the lawyer kindly took her hand, for the sight ofhim brought back to her so vividly the harrowing scenes of that last dayof her idolized uncle's life. 

But she strove to control herself after a moment, and invited thegentleman to be seated, when he immediately broached the subject ofhis call. 

"Perhaps you are aware, Miss Montague, " he began, "that Mr. Dinsmore, onthe morning of his death, tried to make his will, in which he stated hiswish to leave you all his property; but he was unable to sign it;consequently the document cannot stand, according to law. I was somewhatsurprised, " Mr. Graves continued, looking thoughtful, "at his excessiveanxiety and distress regarding the matter, as he had previously given meto understand that you were his only living relative. Still he might onlyhave wished to make assurance doubly sure. Do you know of any heirsbeside yourself?"

"No, " Mona answered, "he had no relatives as near to him as I. There are, I believe, one or two distant cousins residing somewhere in the South. "

"Then you are of course the sole heir, and will have the whole of hishandsome fortune--the will would only have been a matter of form. Mr. Dinsmore was a very rich man, Miss Montague, and I congratulate you uponbeing the heiress to a large fortune, " the lawyer continued, with heartysincerity in his tone. 

But Mona looked, up at him with streaming eyes. 

"Oh! but I would rather have my uncle back than all the wealth of theworld!" she cried, with quivering lips. 

"True. I know that your loss is irreparable--one that no amount of moneycan make up to you, " was the kind and sympathetic response. Then the manreturned to business again, "But--do you mind telling me your age, MissMontague?"

"I was eighteen the day before my uncle died, " the stricken girl replied, with a keen heart-pang, as she recalled that eventful day. 

"You are very young to have care of so much property, " said the lawyer, gravely. "What would be your wish as to the management of it? You oughtreally to have a guardian for the next few years. If you will designatesome one whom you would wish, and could trust to act as such, I willgladly assist in putting Mr. Dinsmore's affair in convenient shape forhim. "

"You are very good, Mr. Graves, " Mona thoughtfully returned. Then sheadded, wistfully: "Why cannot _you_ act as my guardian? I know of no onein whom I have so much confidence. Uncle Walter trusted you, and surelythere can be no one who understands his affairs as well as you do. "

The man's face lighted at this evidence of her trust in him. 

"Thank you, Miss Mona, " he said. "It is of course gratifying to me toknow that you desire this, and I really think that Mr. Dinsmore wouldhave suggested such an arrangement had he been able to do so; butof course I felt delicate about proposing it. Walter Dinsmore was a dearand valued friend, as well as my client, and, believe me, I feel a deepinterest in you, for his sake, as well as your own. I will accept thetrust, and do the best I can for you, my child, thanking you againheartily for your confidence in me. "

He spent a long time, after that, talking over business matters andlooking over some of Mr. Dinsmore's papers, and when at length he tookhis leave, Mona was really greatly comforted, and felt that she hadfound a true friend to rely upon in her loneliness. 

CHAPTER VI. 

A BOLD AND CUNNING SCHEME. 

On the afternoon previous to Mr. Dinsmore's death a woman of perhapssixty years alighted from an elegant private carriage before the doorof a fine residence on West ---- street, in New York city. 

She was simply but richly clad in heavy, lustrous black silk, and was awoman of fine appearance, although her face wore a look of deep sadnesswhich seemed to indicate some hidden trouble or sorrow. 

Her hair was almost white, but carefully arranged, and lay low upon herplacid, but slightly wrinkled, brow in soft, silken waves that were verybecoming to her. Her complexion was unusually clear and fair for one ofher years, although it might have been enhanced somewhat by the fine vailof white tulle which she wore over it. She was tall and commanding infigure, a little inclined toward portliness, but every motion was repletewith graceful dignity and high-bred repose. 

After giving directions to her coachman to wait for her, she mounted thesteps leading to the door, pausing for an instant to read the name, "R. Wesselhoff, M. D. " engraved upon a silver plate, before ringing the bell. 

A colored servant soon answered her call, and responded affirmatively toher inquiry if the noted physician was in, then ushered her into a smallbut elegantly appointed reception-room upon the right of the lofty hall. 

Five minutes later an elderly and singularly prepossessing man enteredand saluted his visitor in a gracious and respectful manner. 

"Mrs. Walton, I suppose?" he remarked, just glancing at the card whichshe had given the servant. 

The woman bowed, then observed, with a patient but pathetic sigh:

"I have called, Doctor Wesselhoff, upon a very sad errand, and one whichI trust you will regard as strictly confidential. "

"Certainly, madame; I so regard all communications made by my patients, "the gentleman courteously responded. 

"I have a son, " madame resumed, "who has of late betrayed symptoms of thestrangest mania, although he appears to be in perfect health in all otherrespects. He imagines that some gigantic robbery has been committed;sometimes he declares that bonds to a large amount have been stolen, atother times it is money, then again that costly jewels have disappeared;but the strangest phase of his malady consists in the fact that heaccuses me, and sometimes other members of the family, of being thethief, and insists that he must have me arrested. This has gone on forsome time, and I have been obliged to adopt every kind of device in orderto keep him from carrying out his threats and thus creating a veryuncomfortable scandal. This morning he became more violent than usual, and I felt obliged to take some decided step in regard to propertreatment for him; therefore my visit to you. "

"It is a singular mania, truly, " said the physician, who had beenlistening with the deepest interest to his companion's recital. "Ithink I never have met with anything exactly like it before in all myexperience. How old is your son, Mrs. Walter?"

"Twenty-four years, " the woman replied, with a heavy sigh; "and, " sheadded, tremulously, "I cannot bear the thought of sending him to anycommon lunatic asylum. I learned recently that you sometimes receiveprivate patients to test their cases before sending them to a publicinstitution, and that you have frequently effected a cure in criticalcases. Will you take my son and see what you think of his case--what youcan do for him? I shall not mind the cost--I wish to spare nothing, andI do not wish any one, at least of our friends and acquaintances, to knowthat he is under treatment for insanity until you pronounce your verdict. He seems sane enough upon all other topics, except now and then hepersists in calling himself by some other name, and I know he would bevery sensitive, should he recover, to have his condition known. He doesnot even suspect that I am contemplating any such thing, and I shall beobliged to use strategy in bringing him to you. "

Doctor Wesselhoff was evidently very deeply interested in the case; hehad never heard of anything like it before, and all his professionalenthusiasm was aroused. 

He spent some time questioning his visitor, and finally decided that hewould receive the young man immediately--to-morrow afternoon Mrs. Waltonmight bring him, he said, if she could conveniently arrange to do so. 

"I think, perhaps, it will not be best for me to come with him myself, "the lady said, after considering the matter for some time. "Truly, " sheadded, with a sad smile, "I almost fear to go out with him, lest he puthis threats into execution and have me arrested. But I think I canarrange with my sister, Mrs. Vanderbeck, to persuade him to come withher as if to call upon a friend. "

The matter was arranged thus, and madame arose to take her leave, thephysician accompanying her to the door and feeling deep sympathy for thecultured and attractive woman in her strange affliction. 

The next day, about one o'clock--the day following Mona Montague'sattendance at the opera with Ray Palmer, and only a few hours after Mr. Dinsmore's death, a brilliantly beautiful woman, who might have beenforty-five years of age, entered the handsome store of Amos Palmer & Co. , diamond merchants and jewelers. 

She was exquisitely dressed in an expensive, tailor-made costume of grayladies' cloth, with a gray felt bonnet trimmed with the same shade ofvelvet as her dress. Her hands were faultlessly gloved, her feet incasedin costly imported boots, and everything about her apparel bespoke her afavorite of wealth and luxury. 

Her appearance was the more marked from the fact that her hair was adeep, rich red, and curled about her fair forehead in lovely naturalcurls, while she wore over her face a spotted black lace veil, which, however, did not quite conceal some suspicious wrinkles and"crow's-feet, " if that had been her object in wearing it. 

She had driven to the store in a plain but elegant _coupé_, drawn by apair of black horses in gold-mounted harness. Her driver was apparently aman of about thirty years, and of eminently respectable appearance in hisdark-green livery. 

She approached a counter on entering the store, and, in a charminglyaffable manner, asked to look at some diamonds. 

As it happened, at that hour, one of the clerks was absent, and Mr. AmosPalmer was himself in attendance in his place, and politely served thelady, laying out before her a glittering array of the costly stones shedesired to examine. 

He saw at once that she was a judge of the gems, for she selected not thelargest and most showy, but the purest and the best, and he could butadmire her discernment and taste. 

When she had made her selections, and she took plenty of time about it, chatting all the while with the gentleman in the most intelligent andfascinating manner, she remarked that she wished her husband to see thembefore she concluded her purchase. 

"But, " she added, thoughtfully, "he is something of an invalid, andnot able to come to the store to examine them; have you not some onewhom you could trust, Mr. Palmer, to take the stones to my home for hisinspection? If he sanctions my choice he will at once write a check fortheir price, or the attendant could return them if they were notsatisfactory. "

"Certainly, " Mr. Palmer graciously responded; "we frequently have suchrequests, and are only too willing to accommodate our customers. Willmadame kindly give me her address?"

Madame smiled as she drew a costly card-case from her no less costlyshopping-bag, and taking a heavy card with beveled edges from it, laid itupon the counter before the jeweler, remarking that she should like tohave the clerk accompany her directly back in her own carriage, as shewanted the matter decided at once, for the diamonds were to be worn thatevening if they suited. 

"Mrs. William Vanderbeck, No. 98 ---- street, " Mr. Palmer read, and thenslipped the card into his vest pocket, after which he beckoned a clerk tohim. 

"Ask my son to step this way a moment, " he said. 

The man bowed respectfully, bestowing an admiring glance upon theattractive woman on the other side of the counter, and then withdrewto a private office at the other end of the room. 

A moment later Ray Palmer made his appearance and approached his father. 

Mr. Palmer introduced his son to Mrs. Vanderbeck, mentioned her desirethat some one be sent to her residence with the diamonds she had selectedfor her husband's approval, and asked if he would assume theresponsibility. 

The young man readily consented, for the duty was not an unusual one, andimmediately returned to the office for his coat and hat, while his fathercarefully put up the costly stones in a convenient form for him to take, and chatted socially with the beautiful Mrs. Vanderbeck meantime. 

When they were ready Ray slipped the package into one of the outsidepockets of his overcoat, but retained his hold upon it, and then followedthe lady from the store to her carriage, and the next moment they droveaway. 

The young man found his companion a most charming woman. She was bright, witty, cultured and highly educated. She had evidently seen a great dealof the world, and was full of anecdotes, which she knew how to relatewith such effect that he forgot for the time everything but the charm ofher presence and conversation. 

The drive was rather a long one, but Ray did not mind that, and was, onthe whole, rather sorry when the carriage stopped, and Mrs. Vanderbeckremarked, in the midst of a witty anecdote:

"Here we are at last--ah--"

This last ejaculation was caused by discovering that she could not risefrom her seat, her dress having been shut into the door of the _coupé_. 

Ray bent forward with a polite "allow me, " to assist her, but found thathe could not disengage the dress. 

Just then the coachman opened the door, but in spite of the young man'sutmost care, the beautiful cloth was badly torn in the operation. 

"What a pity!" he exclaimed, in a rueful tone. 

But madame looked up with a silvery laugh. 

"Never mind, " she said lightly, "accidents will happen, and I ought tohave been more careful when I entered the carriage. "

Ray stepped out upon the sidewalk, where he stood waiting to assisthis companion, who, however, was trying to pin the rent in her skirttogether. Then gathering up some packages that were lying on the seatopposite, she laughingly inquired:

"Please may I trouble you with these for a moment?"

"Indeed you may. Pray excuse my negligence, " Ray gallantly exclaimed, ashe extended his hands for them. 

She filled them both, and then gracefully descended to the ground. 

"You can wait, James, to take Mr. Palmer back, " she quietly remarked, asthey turned to mount the steps of the residence before which they hadstopped. 

"Pray do not ask your man to do that, Mrs. Vanderbeck; I can take a carjust as well, " the young man exclaimed. 

"No, indeed, " she returned, with a brilliant smile, "I am sure it wouldbe very uncourteous in me to allow you to do so after your kindness incoming with me. "

She rang the bell, and the door was almost immediately opened by acolored servant, when the beautiful woman led the way to a smallreception room on the right of the hall, where she invited her companionto be seated, while she went to arrange for the interview with herhusband. 

She glided gracefully from the room, and Ray, depositing upon the tablethe packages he held, began to remove his gloves, while he glanced aboutthe elegant apartment, noticing its hangings and decorations and manybeautiful pictures. 

Presently a gentleman of very prepossessing appearance entered, and Ray, arising, was astonished to behold, instead of the invalid he had picturedto himself, a man in the prime of life and apparently in perfect health. 

He bowed politely. 

"Mr. Vanderbeck, I presume?" he remarked, inquiringly. 

The gentleman smilingly returned his salute, without responding to thename, then courteously asked him to take a seat. 

Ray took the proffered chair, and then observed, although he wondered whyMrs. Vanderbeck did not return:

"As I suppose you know, I have called, at the request of Mrs. Vanderbeck, to have you examine some--Good heavens!"

And he suddenly leaped from his chair as if shot from it by some powerfulbut concealed spring, his face as pale as his shirt bosom, great drops ofcold perspiration breaking out upon his forehead. 

He had put his hand in his pocket as he spoke, to take from it thepackage of diamonds, but--_it was gone_!

"Pray do not be so excited, my young friend, " calmly observed hiscompanion, "but sit down again and tell me your errand. "

But Ray Palmer did not hear or heed him. He had rushed to the window, where, with a trembling hand, he swept aside the heavy draperies andlooked out upon the street for the _coupé_ in which he had been broughtto that house. 

It was not in sight, and the fearful truth burst upon him--he had beenthe victim of an accomplished sharper. 

He had been robbed, and the clever thief had suddenly vanished, leavingno trace behind her. 

CHAPTER VII. 

A DESPERATE SITUATION. 

For a moment all Raymond Palmer's strength fled, leaving him almost ashelpless as a child, while he gazed wildly up and down the street, vainlysearching for the woman who had so cunningly duped him, for he knew, ifhis suspicions were correct, the firm of Amos Palmer & Co. Would losethousands of dollars by that day's operations. 

But the young man was no irresolute character. He knew that he must act, and promptly, if he would regain the treasure he had lost, and thisthought soon restored strength and energy to both heart and limb. 

"I have been robbed!" he cried hoarsely, as he rushed back to the tableand seized his hat and gloves, intent only upon getting out upon thestreet to trace the clever woman who had so outwitted him. Doctor Wesselhoff was also a victim of the sharpers; for, of course, itwill be readily understood that the whole matter was only a deeply laidand cunningly executed scheme to rob the wealthy jewelers of diamonds toa large amount. He was watching Ray's every movement with keenestinterest, and with a resolute purpose written upon his intelligent face. He quietly approached him, laid his hand gently upon his arm, and hismagnetic power was so strong that Ray was instantly calmed, to a certainextent, in spite of his exceeding dismay at the terrible and unexpectedcalamity that had overtaken him. 

"My young friend, " he said soothingly, "you say you have been robbed. Please explain yourself. There is no one in this house who would robyou. "

Ray searched the man's face with eager, curious eyes. Then he shook offhis hand with an impatient movement. 

"Explain myself!" he repeated hotly. "I have had a small fortune stolenfrom me, and I believe that _you_ are an accomplice in the transaction. "

"No, no; I assure you I am not, " returned the gentleman gravely, andexactly as he would have addressed a person whom he believed to beperfectly sane. "I was told that a caller wished to see me, and I finda man claiming that he has been robbed in my house. What do you mean?Tell me, and perhaps I can help you in your emergency. "

The young man was impressed by his courteous manner, in spite of hissuspicions, and striving to curb his excitement, he gave him a briefexplanation of what had occurred. 

His account tallied so exactly with the statements of his visitor of theprevious day that Doctor Wesselhoff became more and more interested inthe singular case, and was convinced that his patient was indeedafflicted with a peculiar monomania. 

"Who was this woman?" he inquired, to gain time, while he should considerwhat course to pursue with his patient. 

"I do not know--she was an utter stranger to me--never saw her before. She called herself Mrs. Vanderbeck. "

That was the name of the "sister" whom Mrs. Walton had told him she wouldsend with her son, so the celebrated physician had no suspicion of foulplay. 

"And who are you?" he asked, searching the fine face before him withincreasing interest. 

"My name is Palmer, " Ray answered. "I am the son of Amos Palmer, ajeweler of this city. "

Doctor Wesselhoff glanced keenly at him, while he thought that, if he wasmad, there was certainly method in his madness to make him deny his ownname, and claim to be some one else. 

The physician had always been a profound student, he was thoroughly inlove with his profession, devoting all his time and energies to it, consequently he was not posted regarding the jewelers of New York, or, indeed, business firms of any kind, fore he did not know Amos Palmer--ifindeed there was such a man--from any other dealer in the vanities of theworld. 

He firmly believed the young man before him to be a monomaniac of anunusual type, although he could plainly see that, naturally, he was aperson of no ordinary character and intelligence. 

"I regret very much that you should find yourself in such deep trouble, "he remarked in his calm, dignified manner, "and if you have been decoyedhere in the way you claim, you are certainly the victim of a very cleverplot. Perhaps I can help you, however; just come this way with me. I willorder my carriage, for of course you must act quickly, and we will tryour best to relieve you in this unpleasant predicament. "

"Thank you sir; you are very kind to be so interested, " returned Ray, beginning to think the man had also been made a tool to further theschemes of the thieves, and wholly unsuspicious that he was being ledstill farther into the trap laid for his unwary feet. "My first act, " hecontinued, "will be to go to the superintendent of police, and put thematter in his hands. "

"Yes, yes--that would be the wisest course to pursue, no doubt. Thisway, Mr. --Palmer. It will save time if we go directly to the stable, "and Doctor Wesselhoff opened a door opposite the one by which Ray hadentered, and politely held it for him to pass through. 

Ray, wholly unsuspicious, stepped eagerly forward and entered the roombeyond, when the door was quickly closed after him, and the sound of abolt shooting into its socket startled him to a knowledge of the factthat he was a prisoner. 

A cry of indignation and dismay burst from him, as it again flashed uponhim that his companion of a moment before must be in league with thewoman who had decoyed him to that place. 

He sprang back to the door, and sternly demanded to be instantlyreleased. 

There was no reply--there was not even a movement in the other apartment, and he was suddenly oppressed with the fear that he was in the power ofan organized gang of robbers who might be meditating putting him out ofthe way, and no one would ever be the wiser regarding his fate. 

He felt that he had been very heedless, for he did not even know the nameof the street he was on. His fascinating companion had so concentratedhis attention upon herself that he had paid no heed to locality. 

He repeated his demand to be released, beating loudly upon the door toenforce it. 

But no notice was taken of him, and a feeling almost of despair began tosettle over him. 

He glanced about the room he was in, to see if there was any other way ofescape, when, to his dismay, he found that the apartment was padded fromfloor to ceiling, and thus no sound within it could be heard outside. 

It was lighted only from above, where strong bars over the glass plainlyindicated to him that the place was intended as a prison, although therewere ventilators at the top and bottom, which served to keep the airpure. 

The place was comfortably, even elegantly, furnished with a bed, alounge, a table and several chairs. There were a number of fine pictureson the walls, handsome ornaments on the mantel, besides books, papers andmagazines on the table. 

But Ray could not stop to give more than a passing glance to all this. Hewas terribly wrought up at finding himself in such a strait, and pacedthe room from end to end, like a veritable maniac, while he tried tothink of some way to escape. 

But he began to realize, after a time, that giving way to such excitementwould do no good--that it would be far wiser to sit quietly down and tryto exercise his wits; but his mind was a perfect chaos, his head ached, his temples throbbed, his nerves tingled in every portion of his body, and to think calmly in such a state was beyond his power. 

Suddenly, however, he became conscious of a strange sensation--he felt apeculiar influence creeping over him; it almost seemed as if there wasanother presence in the room--a power stronger than himself controllinghim. 

This impression grew upon him so rapidly that he began to looksearchingly about the apartment, while his pulses throbbed less heavily, his mind grew more composed, his blood began to cool, and he ceased hisexcited passings up and down the floor. 

All at once, in the wall opposite to him, he espied a hole about the sizeof a teacup, and through this aperture he caught the gleam of a pair ofhuman eyes, which seemed to be looking him through and through. 

Once meeting that gaze, he could not seem to turn away from it, andhe began to feel very strangely--to experience a sense of weariness, amounting almost to exhaustion, then a feeling of drowsiness began tosteal over him--all antagonism, indignation, and rebellion against thecruel fate that had so suddenly overtaken him appeared to be graduallyfading from his mind, and he could only think of how tired he was. 

"What can it mean?" he asked himself, and made a violent effort to breakaway from the unnatural influence. 

He believed that those eyes belonged to the man whom he had met inthe other room--that having hopelessly ensnared his victim he was nowavailing himself of a panel in the wall to watch and see how he wouldbear his imprisonment. 

"Who and what are you, sir, and what is the meaning of this barbaroustreatment?" he demanded; but somehow the tones of his own voice did notsound quite natural to him. "You are aiding and abetting a foul wrong, "he went on, "even if you are not directly concerned in it, and I commandyou to release me at once. "

There came no word of reply, however, to this demand; but those strange, magnetic eyes remained fixed upon him with the same intense, masterfulexpression. 

He tried to meet them defiantly, to resist their influence with all thestrength of his own will; but that feeling of excessive weariness onlyseemed to increase, and, heaving a long sigh, he involuntarily began toretreat step by step before those eyes until he reached the lounge, whenhe sank upon it, and his head dropped heavily upon the pillow. 

The next moment his eyelids began to close, as if pressed down byinvisible weights, though he was still vaguely conscious of the gazeof those wonderful orbs gleaming at him through the hole in the wall. 

But even this faded out of his consciousness after another moment, and aprofound slumber locked all his senses. Ray Palmer was hypnotized and ahelpless prisoner in the hands of one of the most powerful mesmerists ofthe world. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE HEIRESS BECOMES A SEAMSTRESS. 

Poor Mona Montague was almost heartbroken over the sudden death of heruncle. She could not be reconciled to her great loss, and grieved sobitterly and continuously that her health began to be affected, and shelost all her lovely color and became thin and weak. 

With the exception of the housekeeper and servants, Mr. Dinsmore had beenher sole companion for many years, and they had been all in all to eachother, so that this loss was a terrible blow to her. 

Mona had always been an especially bright child unusually mature for heryears, and probably her natural precociousness had been increased byhaving had so much of the companionship of her uncle. He had alwaysinterested himself in all her pleasures and made a confidante of her inall things which he thought she could comprehend; so in this way she hadbecome very thoughtful for others, while it had also served to establisha very tender comradeship between them. 

He had gratified her every wish whenever he could consistently do so, andhad taken care that she should have the best of advantages and the mostcompetent teachers. His home, also, had been filled with everythingentertaining and instructive, and thus to her it had been rendered thedearest and happiest place in the world. 

But the charm and center of attraction were gone, now that he hadbeen laid away, and, though she believed that his death had left herindependently rich, the knowledge gave her no pleasure--in fact, shescarcely gave the subject a thought, except when it was forced upon her. 

A fortnight had elapsed since Mr. Dinsmore died, and everything had movedon as usual in his elegant home, while Mrs. Marston, the housekeeper, strove in every way to comfort Mona and to keep her mind occupied so thather thoughts would not long dwell upon her bereavement. 

But the young girl's condition troubled her greatly. She was listlessand languid; she lost her appetite, and had seasons of depression andoutbursts of sorrow that were really alarming. 

Susie Leades came to her almost every day and tried to cheer her. Monaappreciated her kind efforts, and was somewhat comforted by them, whileshe also had many letters of sympathy and condolence from her numerousfriends. 

But to her great surprise Ray Palmer had never once come to inquire forher; neither had he written her one word to tell her that he felt for herin this bitter trial. 

She was both grieved and hurt over his apparent indifference, especiallyafter the request he had made on the evening of their attendance at theopera, and the many unmistakable signs of regard which he had betrayedfor her at that time. 

She was brooding over this one afternoon when Mr. Graves, the lawyer andher future guardian, was announced. 

He looked serious and troubled; indeed, he was so unlike himself thatMona observed it, and asked him if he was ill. 

"No, Miss Mona, I am not really ill, but I am laboring under troubleand anxiety enough to almost make me so, " he responded, as he took herextended hand and gazed down upon her own colorless face with asorrowful, wistful look. 

"Trouble?" she repeated, with a quivering lip. "Oh, trouble is so muchharder to bear than illness. "

"My poor child, your remark only makes my burden all the heavier, " thegentleman returned, in an unsteady voice. "Alas, my trouble is all onyour account, for I am the bearer of ill news for you. "

"Ill news--to me?" exclaimed the young girl, in a wondering tone. "Afterlosing Uncle Walter, it does not seem as if _any_ trouble could move me;_nothing_ can compare with that, " she concluded, passionately. 

"Very true; but there are other troubles in life besides death, " said Mr. Graves, gently; "such as--the loss of fortune, poverty--"

"Do you mean that I am to have no fortune--that I am to be poor?"exclaimed Mona, astonished. 

"Ah, I fear that it is so. "

"How can that be possible? Uncle Walter was very rich, wasn't he? Icertainly understood you to say so. "

"Yes, I did; and I find, on looking into his affairs, that he was wortheven more than I had previously supposed. "

"Well, then, what can you mean? I am his only near relative, and you saidthat I should inherit everything, " Mona said with a perplexed look. 

"I know I did, and I thought so at that time; but, Mona, I was waitedupon by a noted lawyer only a few days ago, and he claims the whole ofyour uncle's great wealth for another. "

"Why, who can it possibly be?" cried the girl in amazement. 

"Your uncle's wife, or, I should say, his widow. "

"My uncle's wife?" repeated Mona, with a dazed look "Uncle Walter had nowife!"

"Are you sure?"

"Why, yes, of course. I have always lived with him, ever since I canremember, and there has been no one else in the family except theservants and the housekeeper. I am sure--I think--and yet--"

Mona abruptly paused as she remembered a remark which her uncle had madeto her on her eighteenth birthday. He had said: "You have taken the placeof the little girl who never lived to call me father, and--you havehelped me to bear other troubles also. "

Could it be possible, she now asked herself, that her uncle had haddomestic troubles, that there had been a separation from his wife, andthat this had been a life-long sorrow to him?

She had always supposed that his wife was dead, for he would neverspeak of her, nor allow Mona to ask him any questions. From her earliestchildhood she had somehow seemed to know that she must not refer in anyway to such a subject. 

"Ah, I see that you are in some doubt about it, " Mr. Graves observed. "The matter stands thus, however: A woman, claiming to be Mrs. WalterDinsmore, has presented her claim to her husband's property. She provesherself, beyond the possibility of doubt, to be what she pretends, bringing her marriage certificate and other papers to substantiate hertitle. She asserts that about a year after her marriage with Mr. Dinsmorethey had trouble--of what nature I do not know--and the feeling betweenthem was so irreconcilable they agreed to part, Mr. Dinsmore allowingher a separate maintenance. They were living in San Francisco at thetime. There was no divorce, but they never met afterward, Mr. Dinsmorecoming East, while she remained in California. She says there was achild--"

"Yes, " Mona interposed. "Uncle Walter told me of the birth of a littlegirl, but that she never lived to call him father. "

"I wonder what he meant by that?" said Mr. Graves with a start; "that thechild came into the world lifeless? If such was the case, then your claimto the estate is still good. "

"I supposed from what he said that it was born lifeless; still his wordswere somewhat ambiguous--even if she had lived several months, she mightnot have lived long enough to call him father!"

"Well, the woman asserts that the infant lived for a few hours, andbrings the records to prove it, and claims that _she_ is Mr. Dinsmore'sonly legitimate heir, through her child, " Mr. Graves explained. 

"And is she?--is that true?" Mona asked. 

"Yes, the court will recognize her claim--to all appearance, it isindisputable; and now I can understand what puzzled and troubled me whenMr. Dinsmore was so helplessly ill, " Mr. Graves said, reflectively. "Youdoubtless remember how distressed he was when he tried to make meunderstand something in connection with his will. "

"Yes, " said Mona with streaming eyes. "Oh, poor Uncle Walter!"

"Doubtless he knew that his wife was still living, " Mr. Graves resumed, "and that she would be likely to claim his property. He wanted _you_ tohave it--that I know--and he must have suffered untold anguish because hecould not make me understand that he wanted to have me insert somethingin his will, which would provide against this woman's demands. Even if hehad been able to sign the document which I drew up, she could have brokenit, because she was not mentioned and remembered in it, and he knew this, of course. "

"Then she will have all--I am not to have anything?" said Monainquiringly, but without being able to realize, in the least, whatsuch utter destitution meant. 

"My poor child, she utterly refuses to release a dollar of your uncle'smoney to you. I have fought hard for you, Mona, for I could not bear tocome to you with this wretched story; but she is inexorable. She seems, for some reason, to entertain a special spite--even hatred--against you, and asserts, through her counsel--_I_ have not had the honor of meetingthis peculiar specimen of womanhood--that you shall either work or begfor your bread; you shall have _nothing_ of what legally belongs to her. "

"Then I am absolutely penniless!" said Mona, musingly. "I wonder if I canmake myself understand what that means! I have always had everything thatI wanted. I never asked for anything that Uncle Walter did not give me ifhe could obtain it. I have had more money than I wanted to spend, and soI have given a great deal away. It will seem _very_ strange to have anempty purse. I wonder where I shall get my clothes, when what I have areworn out. I wonder how I am to get what I shall need to _eat_--does itcost very much to feed one person? Why, Mr. Graves!" putting her hand toher head in a half-dazed way. "I _cannot_ make it seem _real_--it is likesome dreadful dream!"

"Mona, my dear child, do not talk like that, " said the man, lookingdeeply distressed, "for, somehow, I feel guilty, as if I were, in ameasure, responsible for this fresh calamity that has befallen you; andyet I could not help it. If I had only _known_ that Mr. Dinsmore's wifewas living, I could have made the will all right. Ah! no, no! what am Isaying? Even if I _had_, he could not have signed it, for his strengthfailed. Still, I know that he wanted you to have all, and it is not rightthat this woman should get it from you. "

"Must I go away from my home and from all these lovely things of whichUncle Walter was so fond?" Mona asked, looking about the beautiful roomwith inexpressible longing written on her young face. "Will she claim hisbooks and pictures, and even this dear chair, in which I loved to see himsit, and which seems almost like a part of himself, now that he is gone?"and unable to bear the thought of parting from these familiar objects, around which clustered such precious associations, the stricken girlbowed her face upon the arm of Mr. Dinsmore's chair, and burst intoa passion of tears. 

"My dear girl, don't!" pleaded the tender-hearted lawyer, as he gentlystroked her rich, brown hair with one hand, and wiped the tears from hisown eyes with the other, "it almost breaks my heart to think of it, and Ipromise that you shall at least have some of the treasures which youprize so much. You shall not want for a home, either--you shall come tome. Mr. Dinsmore was my dear and valued friend, and for his sake, as wellas your own, you shall never want for enough to supply your needs. I havenot great wealth, but what I have I will share with you. "

Mona now lifted her head, and wiped her tears, while she struggledbravely to regain her self-possession. 

"You are very kind, Mr. Graves, " she said, when she could speak, and witha newly acquired dignity, at which her companion marveled, "and I am verygrateful to you for your sympathy and generosity; but I could neverbecome an object of charity to any one. If it is so ordered, that I am tobe bereft of the home and fortune which Uncle Walter wished me to have, Imust submit to it, and there will doubtless be some way provided toenable me to live independently. It is all so new and so--so almostincomprehensible, that, for the moment, I was overcome. I will try not tobe so weak and childish again; and now, " pausing for a deep breath, "willyou please explain to me just my position? When must I go, and--and can Itake away the things that Uncle Walter has given to me from time to time?The pictures in my own rooms were given to me on certain birthdays andholidays; the piano he gave me new last Christmas, and I have a watch andsome valuable jewelry. "

"Of course, you may keep all such things, " Mr. Graves answered withemotion, for it was inexpressively sad to have this girl so shorn of allthat had made life beautiful to her so many years, "unless, " he added, "it be the piano, and that you may have if there is any way to provethat it was given to you. You are to have a week in which to make yourarrangements, and at the end of that time everything will pass into thepossession of madame. "

"Only a week longer in my dear home!" broke from the quivering lips ofthe stricken girl; "how can I bear it? Oh, Uncle Walter! how can I bearto have strangers handle with careless touch the things that you and Ihave loved so much? these dear books that we have read together--thepictures that we selected and never tired of studying to find new pointsfor each other! Oh, every one is sacred to me!"

The strong man at her side was so moved by her grief that he was obligedto rise and walk to a window to conceal his own emotion. 

But after a little she controlled herself again, and discussed everythingwith him in a grave, quiet, yet comprehensive way that made him sure shewould in time rise above her troubles and perhaps become all the strongerin character for having been thus tried in the furnace of affliction. 

He went every day after that to assist her in her arrangements forleaving; helped her to pack the treasures she was to take away with her, and to put in the nicest order everything she was to leave; for on thispoint she was very particular. She had secretly resolved that her uncle'sdiscarded wife should have no fault to find with his home. 

When the end of the week arrived Mr. Graves tried to persuade Mona to gohome with him and remain until she could decide what she wished to do inthe future, or, he told her, she was welcome to remain and make it herhome indefinitely. 

But she quietly thanked and informed him that she had already arranged togo as seamstress to a lady on West Forty-ninth street. 

"You go as a seamstress?" exclaimed the lawyer, aghast. "What do you knowabout sewing--you who have always had everything of the kind done foryou?"

"Oh, no; not everything, " said Mona, smiling slightly. "I have alwaysloved to sew since I was a little child, and my nurse made me dopatchwork; and I assure you that I am quite an expert with my needlein many ways. "

"But to go out and make it a business! I cannot bear the thought! Whatwould your uncle say?" objected good Mr. Graves. 

"I do not believe that Uncle Walter would wish me to be dependent uponany one, if it was possible for me to take care of myself, " Mona gravelyreplied. "At all events, " she continued, with a proud uplifting of herpretty brown head, "I could never allow another to provide for my needswithout first trying my best to earn my own living--though, believe me, I am very grateful for your kindness. "

"You are a brave and noble girl, Mona, and I admire your spirit; but--Ihave no daughter of my own, and, truly, both my wife and I would be gladto have you come to us, " Mr. Graves urged, regarding her anxiously. 

"Thank you; it is very comforting to know that you are so kindly disposedtoward me, but I know that I shall respect myself more if I try to dosomething for my own support, " was the firm yet gentle response. 

Mr. Graves sighed, for he well knew that this delicately reared girl hada hard lot before her if she expected to earn her living as a sewinggirl. 

"At least you will regard me as your stanch friend, " he said, "andpromise me, Mona, that if you ever get into any difficulty you willappeal to me; that if you should find that you have undertaken more thanyour strength will allow you to carry out you will make my home yourrefuge. "

"Yes, I will, " she said, tears of gratitude starting to her lovely eyes, "and I am greatly comforted to know that I have one such true friend inmy trouble. "

"What is the name of the family into which you are going?" her companioninquired. 

"I do not know, and it is a little singular that I do not, " Mona replied, smiling. "I applied at an employment bureau for a situation a few daysago; yesterday I went to ascertain if there was a place for me and wastold that a lady living on West Forty-ninth street wanted a seamstress, and I am to meet her at the office this afternoon. I, of course, askedthe name, but the clerk could not tell me--she had lost the lady's card, and could only remember the street and number. "

"Rather a careless way of doing business, " the lawyer remarked, as hearose to go. "However, " he added, "let me know how you succeed after youget settled, and if anything should occur to throw you out of your place, come straight to us, and make our home headquarters while you are lookingout for another. "

Mona's self-possession almost forsook her as she took leave of him. Itseemed almost like losing her only friend, to let him go; but she badehim good-by with as brave a front as possible, though she broke downutterly the moment the door closed after him. 

The remainder of the day was spent in packing her trunk and looking herlast upon the familiar objects of the home that had always been so dearto her. 

But her severest trial came when she had to bid the housekeeper and theservants farewell, for the loved and loving girl had been a greatfavorite with them all, and their grief was as deep and sincere atparting with her. 

This over, she stepped across the threshold of Walter Dinsmore's eleganthome for the last time, and entered the carriage that was to bear heraway, her heart nearly bursting with grief, and tears streaming intorrents over her cheeks. 

CHAPTER IX. 

MONA RECEIVES A SHOCK. 

When Mona arrived at the office of the employment bureau, at the hourappointed, she found awaiting her the carriage belonging to the woman whohad engaged her services. 

A pretty serving girl admitted her when she arrived at the elegant brownstone mansion, and remarked, as she showed her up to the room she was tooccupy, that "the mistress had been called out of town for the day, andwould not be at home until dinner time. "

The girl seemed kindly disposed, and chatted socially about the family, which consisted only of "the mistress and her nephew, Master Louis. " Themistress was a widow, but very gay--very much of a society lady, and"handsome as a picture, " She was upward of forty, but didn't look a dayover thirty. She was very proud and high spirited, but treated her helpkindly if they didn't cross her. 

Somehow Mona did not get a very favorable impression of her employer fromthis gossipy information; but her fate was fixed for the present, and sheresolved to do the best that she could, and not worry regarding theresult. 

As the girl was about to leave the room to go about her duties, sheremarked that dinner would be served at six o'clock, and that Mona was tocome down to the basement to eat with the other servants. 

Mona flushed hotly at this information. Must she, who all her life hadbeen the petted child of fortune, go among menials to eat with she knewnot whom?

But she soon conquered her momentary indignation, for she realized thatshe was nothing more than a servant herself now, and could not expect tobe treated as an equal by her fashionable employer. 

"Will you tell me your name, please?" she asked of the girl, and tryingnot to betray any of her sensitiveness. 

"Mary, miss, " was the respectful reply, for the girl recognized that thenew seamstress was a lady, in spite of the fact that she was obliged towork for her living. 

"Thank you; and--will you please tell me the name of your mistress, also;the card which she left at the office was lost, and I have not learnedit, " Mona said as she arose to hang her wraps in the closet. 

"Lor', miss! that is queer, " said the girl in a tone of surprise, "thatyou should engage yourself and not know who to. "

"It didn't really make much difference what the name was--it was thesituation that I wanted, " Mona remarked, smiling. 

"True enough, but my lady's name's a high-sounding one, and she's not atall backward about airing it; it rolls off her sweet tongue as easy aswater off a duck's back--Mrs. Richmond Montague, " and the girl tossed herhead and drew herself up in imitation of her mistress's haughty air in away that would have done credit to a professional actress, "But there, "she cried, with a start, as a shrill voice sounded from below, "cook iscalling me, and I must run. "

She tripped away, humming a gay tune, while Mona sank, white andtrembling, upon the nearest chair. 

"Mrs. Richmond Montague!" she repeated, in a scarcely audible voice. "Can it be possible that she--this woman, to whom I have come as aseamstress--is my father's second wife--or was, since she is a widow! Howstrange! how very strange that I, of all persons, should have been fatedto come here! It is very unfortunate that I could not have known hername, for, of course, I should never have come if I had. It may be, " shewent on, musingly, "that she is some other Mrs. Montague; but no--itcould hardly be possible that there are two persons with that peculiarcombination of names. This, then, is the woman for whom my fatherdeserted my mother in order to secure the fortune left by his aunt! Howunworthy!--how contemptible! I am glad that I fell to Uncle Walter'scare; I am glad that I never knew him--this unnatural father who neverbetrayed the slightest interest in his own child. But--can I stay herewith her?" she asked, with burning cheeks and flashing eyes. "Can I--hisdaughter--remain to serve the woman who usurped my mother's place, who isliving in affluence upon money which rightly belongs to me?"

The young girl was trembling with nervous excitement, and a feeling ofhot anger, a sense of deep injustice burned within her. 

This startling discovery--for she was convinced that there could be butone Mrs. Richmond Montague--stirred her soul to its lowest depths. Shefelt a strange dread of this woman; a feeling almost of horror andaversion made her sink from contact with her; and yet, at the same time, she experienced an unaccountable curiosity to see and know somethingof her. There was a spice of romance about the situation which promptedher, in spite of her first impulse to flee from the house--to stay andstudy this gay woman of the world, who was so strangely connected withher own life. 

She could leave at any time, she told herself, should the position proveto be an uncongenial one; but since she had chosen the vocation of aseamstress, she might as well sew for Mrs. Richmond Montague as any oneelse; while possibly she might be able to learn something more regardingher mother's history than she already knew. She felt sure that her unclehad kept something back from her, and she so longed to have the mysteryfully explained. 

But, of course, if she remained, it would never do for her to give herown name, for this woman would suspect her identity at once, and probablydrive her out into the world again. It was not probable that she wouldknowingly tolerate the child of a rival in her home. 

Mona was glad now that she had not told Mary her name, as she had oncebeen on the point of doing. 

"What shall I call myself?" she mused. "I do not dare to use UncleWalter's name, for that would betray me as readily as my own; even Mona, being such an uncommon name, would also make her suspect me. There is mymiddle name, Ruth, and my father was called Richmond--suppose I callmyself Ruth Richards?"

This rather pleased her, and she decided to use it. But she was strangelynervous about meeting Mrs. Montague, and several times she was tempted tosend Mary for a carriage and flee to Mr. Graves's hospitable home, andstart out from there to seek some other position. 

Once she did rise to call her. "I cannot stay, " she said. "I must go. "But just then she heard voices in the hall below, and, believing thatMrs. Montague had returned, she turned back and sat down again witha sinking heart, assured that her resolve had come too late. 

At six o'clock she went down to the basement, where she had been tolddinner would be served, and where she found no one save Mary and Sarah, the cook, who proved to be a good-natured woman of about thirty-fiveyears, and who at once manifested a motherly interest in the pretty andyouthful seamstress. 

Mary informed her, during the meal, that Mrs. Montague was going out thatevening to a grand reception, and had sent word that she could not seeher until the next morning; but that she would find some sheets andpillow slips in the sewing room, which she could begin to work upon afterbreakfast, and she would lay out other work for her later. 

Mona uttered a sigh of relief over the knowledge that the meeting, whichshe so much dreaded, was to be postponed a little, and after dinner shereturned to her room, and sat down quite composedly to read the morningpaper, which she had purchased on her way to Mrs. Montague's. 

While thus engaged, her eye fell upon the following paragraph:

"No clew has as yet been obtained to the mysterious Palmer affair, although both the police and detectives are doing their utmost to tracethe clever thief. It is most earnestly hoped that they will succeedin their efforts, as such successful knavery is an incentive to evengreater crimes. "

"What can it mean?" Mona said to herself; "and what a blind paragraph! Ofcourse, it refers to something that has been previously published, andwhich might explain it. Can it be that Mr. Palmer's jewelry store hasbeen robbed?"

This, of course, led her thoughts to Ray Palmer, and she fell intotroubled musings regarding his apparent neglect of her, and in the midstof this there came a rap upon her door. 

She arose to open it, and found Mary standing outside. 

"Please, Miss Richards, will you come down to Mrs. Montague's room?" sheasked. "She has ripped the lace flounce from her reception dress whileputting it on, and wants you to repair it for her. "

Mona was somewhat excited by this summons; but, unlocking her trunk, shefound her thimble, needles, and scissors, and followed Mary down stairsto the second floor and into a large room over the drawing-room. 

It was a beautiful room, most luxuriously and tastefully fitted up as alady's boudoir, and was all ablaze with light from a dozen gas jets. 

In the center of the floor there stood a magnificently beautiful woman. 

She was a blonde of the purest type, and Mona thought that Mary had madea true statement when she had said that, though she was upward of forty, she did not look a day over thirty, for she certainly was a very youthfulperson in appearance. 

Her skin was almost as fair as marble, with a flush on her round, velvet-like cheeks that came and went as in the face of a young girl. Her features were of Grecian type, her hair was a pale gold and arrangedin a way to give her a regal air; her eyes were a beautiful blue, herlips a vivid scarlet, while her form was tall and slender, with perfectease and grace in every movement. 

"How lovely she is!" thought Mona. "It does not seem possible that shecould have even an unkind thought in her heart. I can hardly believe thatshe ever knew anything of my poor mother's wrongs. "

Mrs. Montague was exquisitely dressed in a heavy silk of a delicate peachground, brocaded richly with flowers of a deeper shade. This was drapedover a plain peach-colored satin petticoat, and trimmed with a deepflounce of finest point lace. The corsage was cut low, thus revealingher beautiful neck, around which there was clasped a necklace of blazingdiamonds. 

Her arms were bare to the shoulder, the dress having no sleeves save astrap about two inches wide, into which a frill of costly point wasgathered. Long gloves of a delicate peach tint came above her elbow, and between the top of each of these and the frill of lace there wasa diamond armlet to match the necklace. 

Magnificent solitaires gleamed in her ears, and there was a star composedof the same precious stones among the massive braids of her golden hair. 

She was certainly a radiant vision, and Mona's quick glance took in everydetail of her dress while she was crossing the room to her side. 

Mrs. Montague bent a keen look upon her as she approached, and she gave aslight start as her eyes swept the delicately chiseled face of the girl. 

"You are the new seamstress, Mary tells me. What is your name--what shallI call you?" she questioned, abruptly. 

"M--" Mona had almost betrayed herself before she remembered the need ofconcealing her identity. 

But quickly checking herself, she cried:

"Ruth Richards, madame; call me Ruth, if you please. "

"Hum! Ruth Richards--that's rather pretty, " remarked the lady, but stillsearching the fair face before her with a look of curious interest. "But, " she added, "you look very young; I am afraid you are hardlyexperienced enough to be a very efficient seamstress, " and the lady toldherself that those delicate, rose-tipped fingers did not look as if theyhad been long accustomed to the use of a needle. 

"I do not understand very much about dressmaking, " Mona frankly replied, although she ignored the reference to her youthfulness; "but I can doplain sewing very nicely, and, indeed, almost anything that is plannedfor me. I distinctly stated at the office that I could neither cut norfit. "

"Well, I can but give you a trial, " with a little sigh of disappointment, as if she regretted having engaged one so young; "and if you cannot fillthe place, I shall have to try again, I suppose. But, see here! I caughtthe thread that fastened this lace to my skirt, and have ripped offnearly half a yard. I want you to replace it for me, and you must doit quickly, for I am a little late, as it is. "

Mona dropped upon her knees beside the beautiful woman, threaded herneedle with the silk which Mary brought her, and, though her fingerstrembled and her heart beat with rapid, nervous throbs, she quicklyrepaired the damage, and in a manner to win commendation from Mrs. Montague. 

"You are very quick with your needle, and you have done it very nicely, "she said, with a smile that revealed two rows of the most perfect teeththat Mona had ever seen. "And now tell me, " she added, as she turnedslowly around, "if everything about my costume is all right, then youmay go. "

"Yes, " Mona returned; "it is perfect; it fits and hangs beautifully. "

"That is the highest praise any one could give, " Mrs. Montague responded, with another brilliant smile; "and I believe you are really a competentjudge, since your own dress hasn't a wrinkle in it. Did you make ityourself?"

"I--I helped to make it. I told you I do not know how to fit, " Monaanswered, with a quick flush, and almost a feeling of guilt, for she hadreally done but very little work upon the simple black robe which hadbeen made since her uncle's death. 

"Well, I shall soon find out how much you do know, " said the lady in abusiness-like tone. "You can begin upon those sheets and pillow slipsto-morrow morning--Mary has told you, I suppose. That will be plainsewing, and you can manage it well enough by yourself. Now you may go, "and the elegant woman turned to her dressing-case, gathered up anexquisite point-lace fan and handkerchief, while Mona stole softly outof the room and up to her own, where, no longer able to control thenervous excitement under which she was laboring, she wept herself tosleep. 

The poor grief-stricken girl felt very desolate on this, her first nightbeneath a strange roof, and realized, as she had not before, that she wasutterly alone in the world, and dependent upon the labor of her ownhands for her future support. 

Aside from the grief which she experienced in losing her uncle and thelovely home which for so many years had been hers, she was both woundedand mortified because of Ray Palmer's apparent indifference. 

She could not understand it, for he had always seemed so innately goodand noble that it was but natural she should expect some evidence ofsympathy from him. 

He had been so marked in his attentions to her during that evening atthe opera, he had appeared so eager for her permission to call, and hadimplied, by both words and manner, that he found his greatest pleasure inher society, she felt she had a right to expect some condolence from him. 

She had begun to believe--to hope that he entertained a more tendersentiment than that of mere friendship for her, and she had becomeconscious that love for him--and the strongest passion of her nature--hadtaken deep root in her own heart. 

How kind he had been to her that night--how thoughtful! anticipating herevery wish! How his glance and even the tones of his voice had softenedand grown tender whenever their eyes had met, or he had spoken to her!

What, then, could be the meaning of his recent neglect? Could it bepossible that it had been occasioned by the loss of her wealth?--that ithad been simply the heiress of the wealthy Mr. Dinsmore in whom he hadbeen interested, and now, having lost all, his regard for her had ceased?

It was a bitter thought, but she could assign no other reason for hisstrange silence and absence during her sorrow. 

Must she resign all the sweet hopes that had begun to take form in herheart?--all the bright anticipations in which he had borne so conspicuousa part?

Must she lose faith in one who had appeared to be so manly, so noble, andso high-minded?

It certainly seemed so, and thus the future looked all the darker beforeher, for, humiliating as it was to confess it, she knew that Ray Palmerwas all the world to her; that life without him would be almost like abody without a soul, a world without a sun. 

Her uncle's death had come upon her so like a thunderbolt out of a clearsky, almost benumbing all her faculties with the grief it had hurled uponher so remorselessly, that she could think of nothing else until Mr. Graves had come to her with that other fatal piece of news--the loss ofher fortune. 

She had scarcely looked into a daily paper until that evening, forshe felt no interest in the outside world; she could apply her mind tonothing but her own afflictions; consequently, she had not known anythingof the mysterious and exciting circumstances connected with Ray Palmer'ssudden disappearance and the stolen diamonds. That little blindparagraph, which she had seen just before she was called down to Mrs. Montague's room, was the only hint that she had had of any trouble orloss in the Palmer family. 

So, of course, it is not strange that she so misjudged Ray; she couldnot know that only a great wrong kept him from speeding to her side toexpress the deepest interest and sympathy for her in her sorrow. 

And it was well, perhaps, that she did not know, for it would only haveadded to her troubles and caused her greater suffering. 

CHAPTER X. 

MONA MEETS MRS. MONTAGUE'S NEPHEW. 

The next morning, as soon as she had finished her breakfast, Mona askedMary to conduct her to the sewing-room, and there she found a pile ofwork, which would have been exceedingly disheartening to a less resolutespirit. 

But the young girl had bravely determined to do the best she could andnot worry about the result. 

Fate had willed that she must work for her living, and she had resolvednot to murmur at her lot, but, putting forth all her energies, hope toplease her employer and meet with success in her undertaking. 

So she arranged her chair and table by a pleasant window overlooking thestreet, and then boldly attacked the mountain before her. 

"I wonder if Mrs. Montague intends to have these done by hand ormachine?" she mused, as she shook out the folds of snowy cloth andbegan to turn a hem on one of the sheets. "And then"--with a puzzledexpression--"how am I to know how broad to make the hems?"

She feared to go on with the work without special directions, for shemight make some mistake. But after considering the matter, she determinedto leave the sheets altogether and do the over-and-over sewing on thepillow-slips, until she could ascertain Mrs. Montague's wishes. 

Mona was naturally quick in all her movements, and, being also verypersevering, she had accomplished considerable by ten o'clock, whenMrs. Montague, in an elegant morning _negligée_ of light-blue cashmere, and looking as lovely as an houri, strolled languidly into thesewing-room to see what her new seamstress was about. 

"Oh, you are sewing up the slips, " she remarked, as she nodded in replyto Mona's polite good morning and observed her employment. "I forgot totell you about the hems last night, and I have been afraid ever since Iawoke this morning that you would not make them broad enough. "

"Yes, I feared I might make some mistake, so left them, " Mona answered, but without stopping her work. 

"How beautiful your seams look!" the lady said, as she examined some ofthe slips. "Your stitches are very fine and even; but over-and-oversewing must be very monotonous work. You might vary it by hemming a sheetnow and then. I want the hems three inches wide on both ends. "

"Do you have them stitched or done by hand?" Mona inquired. 

"Oh, stitched; I have a beautifully running machine, and I want to getthem out of the way as soon as possible, for there is dressmaking to bedone. Can you run a White machine?"

Mona was conscious that her companion was regarding her very earnestlyduring this conversation, but she appeared not to notice it, and replied:

"I never have, but if I could be shown how to thread it, I think I shouldhave no difficulty. "

She was very thankful to know that all that mountain before her was notto be done by hand. 

"Do you like to sew?" Mrs. Montague inquired, as she watched the girl'spretty hand in its deft manipulation of the needle. 

Mona smiled sadly. 

"I used to think I did, " she said, after a moment's hesitation, "but whenone is obliged to do one thing continually it becomes monotonous andirksome. "

"How long have you been obliged to support yourself by sewing?" thewoman asked, curiously, for to her there seemed to be something veryincongruous in this beautiful high-bred girl drudging all day longas a seamstress. 

Mona flushed at the question. 

There was nothing she dreaded so much as being questioned regarding herpast life. 

"Not very long; death robbed me of friends and home, and so I was obligedto earn my living, " she returned, after considering a moment how sheshould answer. 

"Then you are an orphan?"

"Yes. "

"Have you no relatives?" and the lovely but keen blue eyes of the ladywere fixed very searchingly upon the fair young face. 

"None that I know of. "

"You do not look as if you had ever done much work of any kind, " Mrs. Montague observed. "You seem more like a person who has been reared inluxury; your hands are very fair and delicate; your dress is of very fineand expensive material, and--why, there is real Valenciennes lace on yourpocket-handkerchief!"

Mona was becoming very nervous under this close inspection. She saw thatMrs. Montague was curious about her, though she did not for a momentimagine that she could have the slightest suspicion regarding heridentity; yet she feared that she might be trapped into betrayingsomething in an unguarded moment, if she continued this kind ofexamination. 

"I always buy good material, " she quietly remarked, "I think it iseconomy to do so, and--my handkerchief was given to me. How wide didyou tell me to make the hems on these pillow-slips?" she asked, inconclusion, to change the subject, but mentally resolving that Mrs. Montague should never see any but plain handkerchiefs about her again. 

"I did not tell you any width for the slips, " was the dry, yet haughtyrejoinder, for madame could not fail to understand that she had beenpolitely admonished that her curiosity was becoming annoying to her fairseamstress, "but you may make them to match those upon the sheets--threeinches. "

She arose, immediately after giving this order, and swept proudly fromthe room, and Mona did not see her again that day. It seemed to the poorgirl, with her unaccustomed work, the longest one she had ever known, andshe grew heavy-hearted, and very weary before it was over. 

She had all her life been in the habit of taking plenty of exercise inthe open air. While she was studying, Mr. Dinsmore had made her walk toand from school, then after lunch they would either go for a drive or fora canter in the park or the suburbs of the city. 

She had never been subjected to any irksome restraint, and so it seemedvery hard to be obliged to sit still for so many hours at a time and donothing but "stitch! stitch! stitch!" like the woman in the "Song of theShirt. "

But six o'clock came at last, to release her from those endless seams andhems, and after she had eaten her dinner she was so completely weariedout that she crept up to her bed and almost immediately fell asleep. 

But the next morning she was pale and heavy-eyed, and Mrs. Montagueevidently realized that it was unwise to make her apply herself sosteadily, for she made out a memorandum of several little things whichshe wanted and sent Mona down town to purchase them. 

The girl came back looking so bright and fresh, and went at her work withso much vigor, the woman smiled wisely to herself. 

"She hasn't been used to such close application, it is plain to beseen, " she mused, "and I must take care or she will give out. She sewsbeautifully, though, and rapidly, and I want to keep her, for I believeshe can be made very useful. "

So every day after that she sent her out for a while on some pretext orother, and Mona felt grateful for these moments of respite. 

One day she was sent to Macy's with a longer list than usual, and whilethere she came face to face with a couple of acquaintances--young ladieswho, like herself, had only that winter been introduced to society. 

They had been only too eager, whenever they had met her in company, toclaim the wealthy Mr. Dinsmore's niece as their friend. 

Mona bowed and smiled to-day, as she met them, but was astonished anddismayed beyond measure when they both gave her a rude stare of surprise, and then passed on without betraying the slightest sign of recognition. 

For a moment Mona's face was like a scarlet flame, then all her coloras quickly fled, leaving her ghastly white as she realized that she hadreceived the cut direct. 

Her heart beat so heavily that she was oppressed by a feeling almost ofsuffocation, and was obliged to stop and lean against a pillar for amoment for support. 

She did not see that a young man was standing near, watching her with apeculiar smile on his bold face. He had observed the whole proceeding, and well understood its meaning, while, during all the time that Monaremained in the store, he followed her at a distance. Her emotion passedafter a moment, and then all her pride arose in arms. Her eyes flashed, her lips curled, and she straightened herself haughtily. 

"They are beneath me, " she murmured. "Homeless, friendless as I amto-day, I would not exchange places with them. I am superior to themeven in my poverty, for I would not wound the humblest person in theworld with such rudeness and ill-breeding. "

Yet, in spite of this womanly spirit, in spite of the contempt which shefelt for such miserable pride of purse and position, she was deeplywounded and made to realize, as she never yet had done, that Mrs. Richmond Montague's seamstress would henceforth be regarded as a verydifferent person from Miss Mona Montague, the heiress and a petted beautyin society. 

She did not care to go out shopping so much after that; but when obligedto do so she avoided as much as possible those places where she would beliable to meet old acquaintances. 

She would take her airing after lunch in the quiet streets of theneighborhood, and then return to her tasks in the sewing-room. 

She was not quite so lonely after a dressmaker came to do some fittingfor Mrs. Montague, for the woman was kind and sociable, and, becominginterested in the beautiful sewing-girl, seemed to try to make the timepass pleasantly to her, and was a great help to her about her work. 

Mona often wondered how Mrs. Montague would feel if she should know whoshe was. Sometimes she was almost inclined to think that she did suspectthe truth, for she often found her regarding her with a curious andintent look. It occurred to her that the woman might possibly have knownher mother, and noticed her resemblance to her, for Mr. Dinsmore had toldher that she looked very much like her. 

One day Mona was standing close beside her, while she tried on a fichuwhich she had been fixing for her to wear that evening, when the womanbroke out abruptly, while she scanned her face intently:

"For whom are you in mourning, Ruth?"

Mona did not know just how to reply to this direct question; but after aninstant's reflection she said:

"The dearest friend I had in the world. Do you not remember, Mrs. Montague, that I told you I was an orphan? I am utterly friendless. "

Mrs. Montague regarded her with a peculiar look for a moment, but she didnot pursue the subject, and Mona was greatly relieved. 

"If she knew my mother, " she told herself, "and has discovered myresemblance to her--if she knew Uncle Walter, and I had told her I wasin mourning for him--she would have known at once who I am. "

It was very evident that her employer was pleased with her work, for shefrequently complimented her upon her neatly finished seams, while thedressmaker asserted that she had seldom had one so young to work withher who was so efficient. 

On the whole she was kindly treated; she was in a pleasant and luxurioushome, although in the capacity of a servant; her wages were fair, and forthe present she felt that she could not do better than to remain whereshe was, while she experienced a very gratifying feeling of independencein being able to provide for herself. 

She had seen Mr. Graves only once since leaving her own home, and thenshe had met him on the street during one of her daily walks. 

He had told her that Mr. Dinsmore's property had all passed into thehands of his wife, although the house had not as yet been disposed of; ithad been rented, furnished, to a family for a year. He said he had nevermet Mrs. Dinsmore; all her business had been transacted through herlawyer, and the woman evidently did not like, for some reason, to appearpersonally in the settlement of the property. 

He kindly inquired how she endured the confinement of her new life, andurged her cordially to come to him whenever she was tired and needed arest, telling her that she should always be sure of a warm welcome. 

A day or two after this meeting with her old friend, and just as she wasreturning from her usual walk, Mona encountered a young man as she wasabout to mount the steps leading into Mrs. Montague's residence. 

He was dressed in the height of fashion, and might have been regarded asfairly good-looking if he had not been so conceited and self-conscious. 

The young girl did not bestow more than a passing glance upon him, supposing him to be some stranger whom she might never meet again. 

She ran lightly up the steps, when, what was her surprise to findhim following her, and, just as she was on the point of ringing foradmittance, he stayed her hand, by remarking, with excessive politeness:

"I have a latch-key, miss--pray allow me to admit you. "

Of course, Mona knew then that this young exquisite must be the nephew ofMrs. Montague, of whom Mary had told her--Mr. Louis Hamblin. 

She observed him more closely as she thanked him, and saw that he wasapparently about twenty-five years of age, with light-brown hair, blueeyes, and somewhat irregular, yet not unpleasant, features. He was wellformed, rather tall, and carried himself with ease, though somewhatproudly. 

He was evidently impressed with Mona's appearance, as his look ofadmiration plainly indicated. 

He appeared to regard her as some visitor to see his aunt, for his mannerwas both respectful and gentlemanly as he opened the door, and then stoodaside to allow her to pass in. 

Mona bowed in acknowledgment of this courtesy, and, entering, passeddirectly through the hall and up stairs, greatly to the young man'sastonishment. 

He gave vent to a low whistle, and exclaimed, under his breath, as hedeposited his cane in the stand and drew off his gloves:

"Jove! I imagined her to be some high-toned caller, and she is only someworking girl. Really, though, she is as fine a specimen of youngwomanhood as I have encountered in many a day, and I should like to seemore of her. Ah, Aunt Marg, " he went on, as Mrs. Montague came sweepingdown the stairs, just then, in an elaborate dinner costume, "how fineyou look, and I'm on time, you perceive! How about the McKenzie receptionto-night?"

"We must go, of course, " responded the lady, in a somewhat weary tone, "for Mrs. McKenzie would be offended if we should remain away, though Iam really too tired after the Ashton ball last evening to go out again;besides, I do not like to wear a dress that isn't properly finished; butI shall have to, for the girls cannot possibly do all that needs to bedone. "

"You are too particular, Aunt Marg. What if every seam isn't bound justas you like it? Your general make-up is always superb. By the way, whowas that girl in black who just came in and went up stairs?" the youngman concluded, as if it had only just occurred to him to inquireregarding her. 

"Oh, that was Ruth Richards, my seamstress; she had just been out on anerrand, " Mrs. Montague indifferently returned as they passed into thedrawing-room. 

"Ruth Richards? Pretty name, isn't it?" her companion remarked, "andthe girl herself is a stunner--one does not often meet so lovely aseamstress. "

Mrs. Montague turned upon him sharply. 

"Nonsense, Louis, " she said, impatiently; "don't allow your headto be turned by every pretty face that you see. There are plenty offine-looking girls in our own set, without wasting your admirationupon a poor sewing-girl. "

"I never should have imagined that she was a sewing-girl, " Mr. Hamblinreturned. "I supposed her to be some aristocratic young lady of youracquaintance, who had come for a social call. She carries herself likea young queen; her form is simply perfect, and her face!--well, were I anartist I should love to paint it, " he concluded, with unusual enthusiasm. 

Mrs. Montague shrugged her graceful shoulders, and curled her red lipsscornfully. 

"What would Kitty McKenzie say if she could hear you run on like thisabout a girl who has to work for her living?" she sneered. 

"Kitty McKenzie cannot hold a candle to Ruth Richards. Dress her as Kittyrigs herself out and all New York would be raving about her, " the youngman replied. 

"Louis Hamblin, I am all out of patience with you! Kitty would feelhighly complimented with your opinion of her charms, " cried his aunt, angrily. "But let me tell you, " she added, resolutely, "I shall notcountenance any fooling with that young lady; you have shown her verymarked attention, and she has a right to expect that you have seriousintentions. You know that I should be only too glad to have you marryKitty; she is a sweet girl, to say nothing about her beauty, while theMcKenzies are all that could be desired, both as to wealth and position;and the day that Kitty becomes your wife I will match her dowry as awedding-gift to you. "

"Thank you; I know that you are all that is kind and good in your plansfor me, Aunt Margie, " Louis responded, in a conciliatory tone, "and youneed not fear that I am rashly going to throw Kitty over; we are the bestof friends, although not acknowledged lovers. I cannot quite make up mymind to propose, for, really, I do not feel like tying myself down justyet. "

"It would be a good thing for you--you have sown wild oats enough, Louis, and it is time that you began to think of settling down in life. If youplease me you know that a brilliant future awaits you, for you are myonly heir, " Mrs. Montague concluded, as she searched his face earnestly. 

"My dear Aunt Margie, you well know there is nothing I like to do betterthan to please you, " was the gallant response, and Mrs. Montague believedhim, and smoothed her ruffled plumage. 

"Nevertheless, " Mr. Louis Hamblin remarked later, while smoking his cigarby himself, "I shall try to see more of that pretty seamstress, withoutregard to the McKenzie expectations. Jove! what eyes she has! and her low'thank you, ' as I let her in, had the most musical sound I've heard inmany a day. Stay, " he added, with a start, "now I think of it, she mustbe the same girl to whom those proud upstarts gave the cut direct inMacy's the other day. I thought her face was familiar, and didn't shepull herself together gloriously after it. There's a romance connectedwith her, I'll bet. She must have been in society, or she could not haveknown them well enough to salute them as she did. Really, Miss RuthRichards grows more and more interesting to me. "

CHAPTER XI. 

RAY'S EXPERIENCE. 

While Mona was plodding her monotonous way among sheets and pillow-slips, table linen and dressmaking, in Mrs. Montague's elegant home, RaymondPalmer was also being subjected to severe discipline, although of adifferent character. 

We left him locked within a padded chamber in the house of DoctorWesselhoff, who was a noted specialist in the treatment of diseasesof the brain and nerves. 

It will be remembered that Ray had been hypnotized into a profoundslumber, from which he did not awake for many hours. 

When at last he did arouse, he was both calmed and refreshed, while hewas surprised to find that a small table, on which a tempting lunch wasarranged, had been drawn close beside the lounge where he lay. 

He was really hungry, and arose and began to partake with relish of thevarious viands before him, while, at the same time, he looked about theartfully constructed chamber he was in with no small degree of curiosity. 

He remembered perfectly all that had occurred from the time he left hisfather's store in company with the charming Mrs. Vanderbeck until he hadbeen so strangely over-powered with sleep by the influence of thosemasterful eyes, which had peered at him through an aperture in the wall. 

As his mind went back over the strange incidents of the day he began toexperience anew great anxiety over the loss of the rare stones which hadbeen so cleverly stolen from him, and also regarding the fate in storefor him. 

He knew that the diamonds were in his pocket when the carriage stoppedbefore the house, for he had not removed his hand from the package untilMrs. Vanderbeck discovered that her dress had been caught in the door ofthe carriage. 

That very circumstance, he felt sure, was a part of the skillfullyexecuted plot, and he was convinced that the woman must have robbed himduring the moment when he had bent forward and tried to extricate itfor her; while she must have concealed the package somewhere in the_coupé_ while she was apparently trying to pin together the rent in herdress. 

Then, as soon as he alighted, how adroitly she had filled his arms withher bundles and kept his attention so engaged that he did not think ofthe diamonds again, until the gentleman of the house appeared in the roomwhere Mrs. Vanderbeck had left him. 

Oh, how negligent he had been! He should not have released his holdupon that package under any circumstances, he told himself; and yet, heargued, if he had been ever so careful he might have been over-poweredand the stones taken by violence, if the woman's cunning had failed toaccomplish the desired object. 

He firmly believed that he was in a den of thieves, and that the man whohad come to him in the reception-room and conducted him into that chamberwas in league with the beautiful Mrs. Vanderbeck, who had so fascinatedhim and hoodwinked his father into sending out such costly jewels forexamination. 

Then his mind reverted to the strange sensations which he had experiencedbeneath those human eyes after being trapped into the padded chamber, and a shiver of repulsion ran over him. Was he a captive in the handsof, and at the mercy of, a gang of conjurers and mesmerists? The thoughtwas horrible to him. He had courage enough to defend himself in ahand-to-hand encounter, but he felt powerless to contend against suchdiabolical influences as he had already been subjected to. 

While he was pondering these things, he heard the bolt to the door shootback, and in another moment a strange man entered the room. 

Ray started to his feet, and boldly confronted him. 

"Who are you?" he haughtily demanded. 

"My name is Huff, sir, " the man returned, in a calm, respectful tone, "and I have come to see what I can do for you. "

"There is but one thing I desire you to do--release me instantly fromthis wretched place!" Ray responded authoritatively. 

"Yes, yes; all in good time. Doctor Wesselhoff will attend to that, " Mr. Huff mildly replied. 

"Doctor Wesselhoff?" exclaimed Ray, astonished. "I have heard of him. Heis the noted brain and nerve specialist, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And--am I in _his house_?" the young man demanded, his amazement innowise abated. 

"Yes, this is Doctor Wesselhoff's residence. "

"That is very strange! I cannot understand!" Ray remarked, deeplyperplexed. "Why am I here?"

"You--have not been quite well of late, and you are here for treatment. "

"For _treatment_? Do you mean that I am here as a patient of DoctorWesselhoff?" cried Ray, aghast. 

"Yes, sir, for a little while, until you are better. "

"Who brought me here? Who made arrangements for my coming here?"

"Your own friends; and really, sir, it would be better if you wouldaccept the situation quietly, " said the man, in a conciliatory tone. 

Ray began to get excited again at this information, and the more so, that he did not believe it, while the mystery of his situation seemedto deepen. 

He had heard of Doctor Wesselhoff, as he had said; he knew that he wasregarded as one of the finest brain specialists in the metropolis, if notin the country, and that, as a man, he stood high in the estimation ofthe public. 

This being the case, he certainly would not lend himself to such anoutrageous trick as had been practiced upon him that day. 

He did not believe what the old man told him--he did not believe that hewas in Doctor Wesselhoff's house at all. It was only a lie on the part ofthe diamond thieves to further their own schemes, he thought, and yet theman's manner was so respectful, and even kind, that he was deeplyperplexed. 

"There is nothing the matter with me--I am as sane as you are, " he said, flushing angrily at the idea of being regarded as a lunatic. 

"Yes--yes; we will hope so, " was the gentle response, as the attendantbegan to gather the dishes and remnants of Ray's lunch. 

"You say that my friends brought me here, " persisted the young man; "thatis false; I was brought here by a woman whom I never saw before, and whorobbed me of valuable diamonds. If she arranged for my coming, it is alla trick. But what did she claim was my special malady?" he concluded, with considerable curiosity. 

"We will not talk any more about it now, sir, if you please, " said hiscompanion, in a soothing tone. "Doctor Wesselhoff will explain it all toyou when he returns. "

"When he returns? Where has he gone--how long will he be absent?" Raydemanded, with a sinking heart, for time was precious, and he was almostwild to get away to hunt for the thieves who had robbed him; while, too, he knew that his father must already have become alarmed at his longabsence. 

"The doctor was called away by a telegram only an hour ago, " theattendant replied, hoping by this explanation to divert the mind of hischarge from his mania of robbery. "His wife, who went South a week ago tovisit friends, has been taken suddenly ill, and he was obliged to hastento her; but he will return at the earliest possible moment. "

"Gone _South_! and I must remain here until his return?" Ray cried, in avoice of agony. "I _will_ not, " he went on fiercely, his face growingcrimson with angry excitement. "I tell you I am perfectly well, and Ihave been only tricked into this place by some cunning thief who hasrobbed me. Whether Doctor Wesselhoff is concerned in it or not, I cannottell. I confess it seems very like it to me, although I have always heardhim well spoken of. Stay!" he cried, with a start, "you tell me thedoctor has already left the city! oh! then he must be a party to the foulwrong of which I am the victim. Let me out--I tell you I _will_ notsubmit to such inhuman treatment, " and he turned fiercely upon theattendant, as if he meditated attacking and overpowering him, with thehope of forcing his way from the place. 

But the attendant quietly retreated before him, looking him calmly in theeye, and, as Ray pressed closely upon him, he made a few passes beforehis face with his hands. 

Instantly the young man began to experience that same sense of wearinessand drowsiness that had over-powered him when those masterful eyes hadfastened themselves upon him through the hole in the wall. 

"Don't! don't!" he cried, throwing out his arms as if to ward off theinfluence, while he tried to resist it with all his will-power. 

But his arm fell powerless by his side and he sank into a chair nearwhich he was standing, and the attendant turned and left the room, asmile of peculiar satisfaction on his face. 

"That was very well done, I think, for a pupil of the great DoctorWesselhoff, " he muttered, as he shot the bolt into the socket and turnedto go about other duties. "It will not be long before I shall be able toexert the power as skillfully as he does. "

Ray sat as one half dazed for a few moments after the departure of Mr. Huff, and tried to combat with all the strength of his will the strangedesire to sleep. 

Then suddenly his glance became riveted upon something that was clingingto the leg of his trousers. 

He stooped to pick it off, examining it closely, and uttered anexclamation of surprise upon finding that it was a small piece of ladies'cloth of a delicate mauve color. 

"Ha!" he cried, excitedly; "it is as precious as gold dust, and may proveto be very useful to me. How fortunate I am to have found it!"

It was a small piece of woolen goods that had been torn from Mrs. Vanderbeck's dress, and Ray, after a moment, put it carefully away in hispocket-book, in the hope of some time finding the rent that it would fit. 

It was true that Doctor Wesselhoff had been suddenly called away to hissick wife. 

No other summons would have had the power to draw him away from New Yorkat that time, for he experienced great anxiety and interest regarding thenew and peculiar case that had just been confided to his care. 

He really believed that Ray--or young Walton, as he believed hispatient's name to be, in spite of the fact that he had given it asPalmer--was a monomaniac; for his words and manner fully corroboratedthe statement which his visitor of the previous day had made to him. Hehad not the slightest suspicion that he also was the dupe of a cunningplot to secure diamonds that were worth a large sum of money. 

But before leaving the city he gave the most careful directions to hispupil, Doctor Huff, who had been studying with him for more than a year, regarding the treatment of his patient, and then he was obliged to hurryaway, promising, however, that he would return just as soon as it woulddo to leave his wife. 

It took him two days of continuous travel to reach his destination, andthen he found Mrs. Wesselhoff so very ill that all his thought and carewere concentrated upon her. 

The place to which he went was a remote Southern town, where Northernnewspapers seldom found their way; consequently he could not knowanything of the intense excitement that was prevailing in New York overthe mysterious disappearance of Raymond Palmer and the costly stones hehad taken with him. 

To his pupil he had hastily explained all that he could regarding theyoung man's case, and had told him that his name was Walton; so, ofcourse, Doctor Huff, on reading an account of the diamond robberyand the strange disappearance of the merchant's son, never dreamed thatthe patient left in his charge was the missing young man. 

Mr. Palmer did not seem to be at all troubled over the non-appearance ofhis son until the time arrived to close the store for the night; then hebegan to feel some anxiety. 

Still, he told himself, Ray might possibly have been detained longer thanhe had anticipated, and finding it rather late to return to the store, had gone immediately home, where there was also a safe in which thediamonds could be deposited for the night. 

With this hope to rest upon, he hastened to his residence, but was madeeven more anxious upon being told by the housekeeper "that Mr. Raymondhad not come in yet. "

He kept hoping he might come, so he ate his supper and then tried tocompose himself to read his papers; but his uneasiness only continued toincrease. 

He endured the suspense until nine o'clock, and then went down town toconsult with the superintendent of police. 

He confided to him what had occurred, and his fears regarding the safetyof his son, and he was by no means reassured when that official at onceexclaimed that "the whole thing was a put-up job. "

"Keep quiet, " he advised, "for a day or two, and we will see what we cando. "

He set his detectives at work upon the case immediately, while theanxious father endeavored to endure his suffering in silence. But the"day or two" brought no revelations, and his agony could no longer becontrolled; he believed that his son had been murdered for the sake ofthe diamonds, and thus the matter became public. 

The newspapers were full of the affair, and caused great excitement. Thecity offered a large reward for any intelligence regarding the missingyoung man or the diamonds, and this was doubled by Mr. Palmer himself. 

But days and weeks passed, and no clew was obtained regarding either thestolen jewels or Ray's mysterious fate; therefore the belief that he hadbeen foully dealt with prevailed very generally. 

Mr. Palmer had placed in the hands of a private detective a detailedaccount in writing of the woman's visit to the store, and also a minutedescription of herself, and the moment he had finished reading it theman's face lighted up with eager interest, even enthusiasm. 

"Great Scott!" exclaimed the detective, with a resounding slap upon hisknee, "I'll wager my badge that it's a sequel to that Bently affair, whena young broker of Chicago was wretchedly fooled with some diamonds aboutthree years ago!--that woman also had short, curly red hair. "

He related the story to Mr. Palmer, and informed him that he had beenengaged upon the case, off and on, for a long time; but since he had cometo New York to reside he had about given it up as hopeless. 

"This may put me on the trail again, however, " finally remarked Mr. Rider, who was the detective that Justin Cutler had employed. 

Of course, the house which Mrs. Vanderbeck had given as her place ofresidence was visited, but as in the Bently affair, it proved to beempty, and Mrs. Vanderbeck seemed to have vanished as completely asif she had been a visitant from some other sphere. 

All this had occurred while Mona was so absorbed in her grief for heruncle; when she had had no interest in anything outside her home, and sonot having read any of the newspapers, she was entirely ignorant of theexcitement that had prevailed over the robbery, and Ray's disappearance. Thus she believed that he had deserted her, like most of her otherfair-weather friends, and was trying to make herself believe that hewas unworthy of her regard. 

Poor Ray! it had fared hard with him during all this time, although notin the way that his father and the detectives feared. 

We last saw him just after he had discovered the shred that had been tornfrom Mrs. Vanderbeck's dress; but when Doctor Huff again went to him hefound him prostrate upon the floor in a high fever and delirious. 

For four weeks he lay thus. He had taken a severe cold, and that, withthe excitement and anxiety caused by the loss of the diamonds, hadbrought on the illness. 

When Doctor Wesselhoff returned after a hard fight with disease in hiswife's case, he found him very low, and just at the turning point in hisfever. 

He bestowed great commendation upon his pupil, however, for hismanagement of the case, which, he said, he could not have treatedbetter himself. 

He expressed himself as very much surprised, because none of the youngman's friends had called to make any inquiries about him; it certainlyshowed a lack of interest, if not a positive neglect, he thought. 

He believed that the fever would turn favorably, for the young man had anaturally vigorous constitution, and he had known of persons recoveringwho had possessed far less vitality. 

Ray did pass the crisis successfully, but he was very weak for many dayslonger; too weak even to notice where he was, or who was caring for him. 

But, as he gained a little strength, he looked curiously about him, thenmemory began to assert itself--he recalled the events which had occurredon that fateful day, when he had been made a captive, and he realizedthat he had been moved from that dismal padded chamber to a large andairy room in another portion of the house. 

The next time Doctor Wesselhoff came to his bedside, after he had comethoroughly to himself, he said, in a grave but authoritative voice:

"Doctor Wesselhoff, sit down if you please; I want to talk with you for afew moments. "

The physician obeyed, but with some surprise, for both the look andmanner of his patient convinced him that he was perfectly rational. 

"I have been very ill, have I not?" Ray inquired. 

"Yes, but you are much better and steadily improving. "

"How long have I been sick?"

"It is more than five weeks now since you were attacked. "

Ray frowned at this information. 

How must his father feel regarding his strange absence? What had becomeof that cunning thief and the diamonds? were questions which suggestedthemselves to him. 

But he simply asked:

"When did you return to New York?"

"About a week ago, " the physician replied. "I was very sorry to have toleave you as I did, but the summons to my wife was imperative, and ofcourse my duty was by her side. "

A sarcastic smile curled Ray's lips at this last remark. 

"I am only surprised that you returned at all, " he quietly responded. 

"Why?" inquired the physician, with some astonishment. 

"It is not always safe, you know, " Ray answered, looking him straight inthe eye, "for one who has aided and abetted a stupendous robbery toappear so soon upon the scene of his depredations. "

Doctor Wesselhoff's face fell. 

He had hoped that, when the young man should recover, all signs of hispeculiar mania would disappear; but this did not seem much like it, andhe began to fear the case might prove a very obstinate one. 

"I think you must rest now, " he remarked, evading the subject; "you havetalked long enough this time. "

"Perhaps I have, but I do not intend to rest until I have come to somedefinite understanding regarding my relations with you, " Ray responded, resolutely. 

"Well, then, what do you mean by a definite understanding?" the physicianasked, thinking it might be as well to humor him a little. 

"I want to know how far you are concerned in this plot to keep me aprisoner here? I want to know in what way you are connected with thatwoman who called herself Mrs. Vanderbeck, and who enticed me here withvaluable diamonds, only to steal them from me? I believe I am in thepower of a gang of thieves, and though I cannot reconcile it with what Ihad heard of you previously, that you must be associated in some way withthem. "

Ray had spoken rapidly, and with an air and tone of stern command, whichpuzzled while it impressed the doctor. 

"You bring a very serious charge against me, my young friend, " he gravelyremarked, but without betraying the slightest resentment; "but perhaps ifyou will tell me your side of the story I shall understand you better, and then I will explain my authority for detaining you here. "

Doctor Wesselhoff was strangely attracted toward his patient. He did notseem at all like an insane person, except upon that one subject, and hewould not have regarded that as a mania if he had not been assured of itby Mrs. Walton. He began to think there might at least be somemisunderstanding, and that it would be as well to let the young manexhaust the subject once for all; then he could judge the betterregarding the treatment he needed. 

"Well, then, to begin at the beginning, " Ray resumed. "A woman, givingher name as Mrs. William Vanderbeck, called at my father's store on theday I came here, and asked to look at diamonds. You will remember, I toldyou my father is a diamond dealer. They were shown to her, and sheselected several very expensive ornaments, which she said she wished towear at a reception that evening. But she represented that she could notpurchase them unless they were first submitted to her husband forexamination and his sanction. He was an invalid; he could not come tothe store, consequently the stones must be taken to him; was there notsome reliable person who could be sent to her residence with them, when, if Mr. Vanderbeck was satisfied with the ornaments, a check for theirprice would be filled out and returned to my father. This seemed fair andreasonable, and I was commissioned to attend the lady and take charge ofthe diamonds. I put the package in my pocket, and my hand never left ituntil the _coupé_ stopped before this house, when Mrs. Vanderbecksuddenly discovered that her dress had caught in the carriage door, andshe could not rise. Of course I offered assistance in disengaging it; butin spite of our united efforts, the garment was torn during theoperation. I suppose she robbed me at that moment, but am not quite sure, as I did not discover my loss until you--whom I supposed to be the lady'shusband--entered the room, and I slipped my hand into my pocket for thediamonds, only to find that they were gone. You know the rest, and thetreatment I received from yourself. Is it any wonder that I believed youan accomplice when I found myself in that padded chamber and losing allsense and reason beneath the influence of a powerful mesmerist?"

Doctor Wesselhoff had listened gravely throughout the young man'srecital, and, though astonished and puzzled by what he heard, felt thathe was relating a very connected story. 

He was upon the point of replying to his questions, when he chanced toglance at his assistant, Doctor Huff, who had been in the room all thetime, and saw that he was startlingly pale, and laboring under extremeagitation. 

"Sir, " cried the man, hoarsely, "can it be possible that he is the victimof the recent diamond robbery, which has created so much excitement? Thenewspapers have been full of the story that he has just related. "

CHAPTER XII. 

AMOS PALMER FINDS HIS SON. 

"What do you mean?" Doctor Wesselhoff sharply demanded, and losing colorhimself at the sudden suspicion that he also might have been the dupe ofa set of rogues. 

"Haven't you seen an account of the affair in the papers?" Doctor Huffasked. "They were full of it for two weeks after you left home. "

"No, I did not see a New York paper from the time I started until Ireturned. I could not get one, even if I had not had too many cares andbeen too much absorbed in my wife's critical condition to think of orread news of any kind, " Doctor Wesselhoff replied. Then, with a suddenthought, as he turned again to Ray: "Young man, is not your name Walton?"

"You know it is not, " said Ray, with a flash of indignation. "I told you, the day I came, that my name is Palmer--Raymond Palmer. "

"He is the man!" cried the assistant, starting up and regarding theinvalid with a look of fear, "and it was Amos Palmer, the diamondmerchant, who was robbed!"

"Can it be possible!" exclaimed the physician, amazed at thisintelligence. "That woman--Mrs. Walton--told me that he was her son, onlyat times he denied his own name, so when he told me his name was 'Palmer'that day I imagined it only a freak produced by his mania. "

Ray had been regarding the man curiously during this speech. He surelydid not appear like a person who would have anything to do with so daringa crime as that of which he had accused him. He was strikingly noble inappearance; his manner was quietly dignified and self-possessed--he had afinely shaped head, a kind eye, a genial smile, while his astonishmentand dismay over what he had just been told seemed too genuine to befeigned. 

"Did you not expect to find me in your reception-room? Did no lady informyou of my arrival on the day I came here?" Ray inquired, searching hisface earnestly. 

"No, I saw no lady--a servant came to tell me that a gentleman waswaiting to see me, " responded the doctor. 

"Then she must have gone immediately out and made off with all possiblespeed, " said Ray, musingly. 

"But, " Doctor Wesselhoff continued, as if he had not heard his remark, "the woman I spoke of--a Mrs. Walton--called upon me the previous day andarranged with me to take you as a patient. She was upward of fifty yearsof age, her hair was white, and she had the look of one who had knownmuch care and sorrow. "

He then proceeded to relate all that had occurred during the interview, and Ray was astonished at the daring scheme which had been sosuccessfully planned and carried out. 

When the physician concluded his account, Ray gravely and positivelydeclared:

"I do not know any person by the name of Walton. If this woman toldyou that she was my mother, she uttered a falsehood, for I have nomother--she died more than ten years ago, and her place has beenfilled, as well as another could fill it, by a housekeeper. My home isNo. 119 ---- street; but, Doctor Wesselhoff, if you still doubt mystatements, and imagine that I am laboring under a peculiar mania, youcan easily ascertain the truth by bringing my father here to provemy assertions. I beg that you will do so without delay, for he must besuffering the most harrowing suspense on my account. "

Doctor Wesselhoff looked very much disturbed, for the more he talked withRay, the more fully convinced he was that he had been unconsciouslylending his aid to further an atrocious crime. 

But as he saw how pale and weary his patient was, he was recalled to asense of his duty as a physician. 

He arose and kindly took the young man's hand. 

"I am very much afraid, " he said, "that we are both the victims of acomplicated plot; but let me assure you that so far as I am concerned, the wrong to you shall be made right without a moment's delay. Now I wantyou to go to sleep, and while you are resting I will seek an interviewwith the man whom you claim as your father. "

Ray's weak fingers closed over the hand he held in a friendly clasp atthis assurance, and he was at once inspired with implicit confidence inthe physician. 

"Thank you, " he said, a trustful smile wreathing his thin lips, "I willbe obedient and go to sleep, but I shall expect to find my father herewhen I awake. "

"If Amos Palmer is your father, you will surely find him by your bedsideafter you have had your nap, " Doctor Wesselhoff responded, and withanother hand-clasp he withdrew from the room. 

In less than five minutes Ray was sleeping quietly and restfully. 

Half an hour later the great brain specialist rang the bell of AmosPalmer's handsome residence. The servant who answered it replied in theaffirmative when asked if the gentleman of the house was in, and usheredthe visitor into a richly furnished reception-room leading from the hall. 

A few minutes later a sorrowful, despondent-looking gentleman entered, and politely, although somewhat absently, saluted his caller. 

He did not look much like the upright, energetic and affable gentlemanwho had so courteously served the elegant Mrs. Vanderbeck a few weeksprevious. 

His face was wan and drawn with anguish, his cheeks were hollow, his eyessunken, heavy and lusterless; his form was bowed, his steps feeble andfaltering. 

After saluting Doctor Wesselhoff, he threw himself, with a heavy sigh, into a chair, where he immediately became absorbed in his own painfulthoughts, appearing to forget that there was any one present, or thatthere were duties devolving upon him as host. 

"Mr. Palmer, " said the physician, breaking in upon his sorrowful reverie, "my name is Wesselhoff, and I have called to consult with you regardingthe very peculiar circumstances connected with your son's disappearance. "

Amos Palmer was like one electrified upon hearing this. He sat erect, andstared with wondering eyes at his companion, and began to trembleviolently. 

"My son! my son!" he cried, in quavering tones. "Oh, if you can tell me_anything_--if you can tell me that he--lives, " the word was scarcelyaudible, "you will put new life into me. "

"Tell me his full name, if you please, " said Doctor Wesselhoff, who wasscarcely less excited than the trembling man before him. 

"Raymond Palmer. "

"Describe him to me. "

Amos Palmer gave him a minute description of the young man as he appearedon the day that he had been trapped into the physician's house, even tothe clothing which he had worn, and the doctor was at last convincedthat, all unwittingly, he had assisted in the perpetration of a doublecrime. 

"Yes, " he said, when the eager father had concluded, and feeling that hemust at once relieve the terrible suspense under which his companion waslaboring; "your son lives, and is longing to see his father. "

"Oh, then, I have nothing more to wish for--the world will be bright tome once more, for he was my all, Doctor Wesselhoff--my last, and bestbeloved. I have laid six children in the grave, and all my hopes werecentered in Ray. My boy! my boy! I am content to know that you live--thatyou are not lost to me!"

The over-wrought man broke down utterly at this point, bowed his faceupon his hands, and sobbed almost convulsively. 

Doctor Wesselhoff was also greatly moved at the sight of his emotion, butas soon as he could control himself sufficiently, he remarked:

"I have a very strange story to tell you, Mr. Palmer, and you may beinclined, as your son was at first, to suspect me of complicity inthe affair. I am, however, willing to be subjected to a rigorousinvestigation, if you demand it; but let me assure you that the momentI discovered the truth, I saw that I, as well as you, had been wretchedlyimposed upon, and I was anxious to do all in my power to right thewrong. "

He then related all that he had told Ray, and all that we already know, while Amos Palmer listened with wonder to the unfolding of the bold andcunning scheme which had so baffled the police and the best detectives inNew York. 

"It is the most devilish plot I ever heard of if you will excuse theexpression, " Mr. Palmer excitedly exclaimed, when his visitor hadconcluded his narrative. 

"It certainly was a very brazen one, yet very cleverly arranged, and justas artfully carried out, " Doctor Wesselhoff remarked; and then heinquired, while he regarded his companion with earnest interest: "Buthave you no doubts as to the truth of my statements? Have you nosuspicions that I might also be concerned in the plot?"

"No, sir; I am impressed that you are a man of truth and honor. I haveheard of you, and know something of your reputation; and I can but feelthankful that my son fell into your hands, rather than into the clutchesof some unprincipled villain, " Mr. Palmer replied, with a heartyconfidence in his tones that could not be doubted. Then he added: "Excuseme for a few moments while I order my carriage, then you shall take me atonce to my son. "

Amos Palmer seemed a changed man now that hope throbbed once more in hisheart, and he started up with all his old-time vigor and energy to leavethe room. 

But Doctor Wesselhoff stopped him. 

"My own carriage is at your door--do not wait for yours; come at oncewith me and I will have you sent home when you are ready to return; butMr. Palmer, you must be prepared to find your son greatly changed, for hehas been very ill; the worst is over, however, and he will gain rapidlynow, if we take proper care of him. "

In a few moments the two men were driving rapidly toward the physician'sresidence, while they more fully discussed the affair of the robbery, andthe skillful way in which it had been managed. 

"I would never have believed that a woman could have nerve enough toattempt anything so daring, " Mr. Palmer remarked. "I should have beenwilling to take my oath that she--this Mrs. Vanderbeck, so called--wasjust what she pretended to be--a refined and cultured lady accustomed tothe most polished society. She did not overdo her part in the least, andhad one of the most frank and beautiful faces that I have ever seen. Herfigure and carriage were superb, her manner charming. The only peculiarthing about her was her hair, which was a decided red, as were also hereyebrows, and lashes. She had fine teeth, and she was very richly, thoughmodestly, dressed. She came to the store apparently in her own carriage, with a colored driver, and everything seemed to indicate that shebelonged in the ranks of high life. "

"The woman who came to me, to make arrangements for the treatment of herpretended son, was a much older woman than you describe, " DoctorWesselhoff said, in reply, "her hair was almost white, her face wassomewhat wrinkled, and she appeared sad and depressed. It must be thatthere were two women concerned in the affair, for my visitor remarkedthat since her son, when under the influence of his mania, was sodetermined to have her arrested, she would send her sister, whom shecalled Mrs. Vanderbeck, with him. "

"Hum--maybe my adventuress was the same person in disguise, " Mr. Palmerthoughtfully observed. 

"But you said she had red hair, brows, and lashes, and was quite young inappearance; while Mrs. Walton was old and wrinkled, with white hair; thebrows and lashes I did not notice particularly, but they certainly werenot red, " Doctor Wesselhoff responded, doubtfully. 

"Well, whether they were one and the same or not, the whole thing is aperplexing puzzle, and I would sacrifice a good deal to have it solved, "said Mr. Palmer. "But, " he added, with a sigh, "I am afraid that it neverwill be, for the thieves, in all probability, left New York immediately, and were sharp enough to remove the diamonds from their settings beforeattempting to dispose of them. "

"They may overreach themselves yet and be brought to justice, " DoctorWesselhoff remarked. "But is there no way of identifying the diamondsunset?"

"Some of them--two in particular--could be identified; they were a pairof magnificent solitaires, and I am sure my expert could tell themanywhere, " Mr. Palmer replied. 

"It is strange that you were not suspicious of a person who wished topurchase so many diamonds at one time, " said the physician, thoughtfully. 

"She did not pretend that she wished to buy all that she laid out, onlythat her selections from the lot were to be made with the advice andsanction of her husband; and in this way--don't you see?--the cleversharper got possession of a great deal more than she would otherwise havedone. "

"True, she showed herself very shrewd. But your son has in his possessiona clew, though a very slender one, which may possibly lead to a solutionof the mystery. It is a small piece of cloth that was torn from thewoman's dress, " Doctor Wesselhoff returned. 

"I am afraid that won't amount to much, for, probably, if the woman isstill in New York, which I doubt, she will never wear that dress again, "Mr. Palmer responded. "But, " he continued, cheerfully, "I shall notcomplain as long as I am to have Ray back again. I fully believed that hehad been murdered. My loss I can never tell you what anguish I haveendured, for will of course eat deeply into the profits of my businessfor this year, but that is of comparatively little consequence. I am moretroubled to have such wickedness prosper than I am about any pecuniaryloss. "

The carriage stopped just then, and the conversation ended. Bothgentlemen alighted, and Doctor Wesselhoff led the way into his house, andstraight up to the chamber which Ray occupied. 

He had not aroused once during the doctor's absence, but awoke almostimmediately after their entrance, and the meeting between the father andson was both joyful and tender. 

Neither had ever before realized how much they were to each other, orbelieved that life could be so dark if they were separated. 

Doctor Wesselhoff would not allow them to talk very much that night, forhe said that his patient was liable to have a relapse if he became tooweary or was subjected to too much excitement; so Mr. Palmer waspermitted to remain only a short time with him, but promised to returnagain at as early an hour in the morning as the physician would allow. 

He visited Ray twice every day after that, and both father and son werefully convinced of the truth and honesty of purpose of the notedspecialist, who had given Ray such excellent care, and whose interestin him continued to increase throughout his recovery. 

The Palmers found him very genial and entertaining, and an enduringfriendship grew up between the three. 

Ray improved very rapidly, and was able by the end of two weeks to returnto his own home; but, though he was very thankful to be restored tohealth and to his father once more he was saddened and dismayed uponlearning of Mr. Dinsmore's sudden death, and that Mona had been deprivedof her inheritance. 

He was still more appalled when, upon making inquiries, he could learnnothing of her movements since leaving her home. No one seemed to knowanything about her--even her friend Susie Leades was in ignorance of herwhereabouts, for Mona had shrunk, with extreme sensitiveness, fromtelling any one, save Mr. Graves, of her plans for the future. 

Ray did not know who had been Mr. Dinsmore's man of business, so, ofcourse, he could not appeal to the lawyer, and he was finally forced tobelieve that Mona had left New York. 

He could not be reconciled to have her vanish so completely out of hislife, just when he had begun to entertain such strong hopes of winningher for his wife. 

For more than two years he had loved Mona Montague in secret, but onlyduring the last few months had he allowed himself to show her markedattention. 

She had been in school until the previous June, and he had felt sure thatMr. Dinsmore would not countenance anything that would distract her mindfrom her studies, therefore he had waited, with commendable patience, until she graduated before making it manifest that he experienced anyespecial pleasure in her society. 

Mr. Dinsmore and Mona had spent the months of July and August at Lenox, Massachusetts, and Ray, having learned their plans, arranged to be thereat the same time. Therefore the young people had seen considerable ofeach other during the summer, and before their return to New York, RayPalmer had begun to have strong hopes that he should eventually win thebeautiful girl for his wife. 

They met several times in society during the early winter, and Monaalways appeared so happy with him that he gradually grew bolder in hisattentions, and finally formally requested the pleasure of acting asher escort in public. This request was granted, as we know, and cordialpermission to call was also given him, and when Ray left Mona that night, after their attendance at the opera, he resolved to seek Mr. Dinsmoreat an early day and ask the privilege of paying his addresses to hisniece with the view of winning her. 

But he was very unhappy over his fruitless efforts to find her, and hegrew strangely silent and depressed, greatly to his father's surprise, even while he was every day gaining in health and strength. 

Finally Mr. Palmer questioned him outright as to the cause; and Ray, longing for both sympathy and advice, frankly told him the truth. 

"That is too bad, Ray, and I am extremely sorry, " the royal-hearted manremarked. "I should be very sorry to have you disappointed in such amatter, but do not be discouraged; we will do our best to find theyoung lady, and then you shall bring her home as soon as you please. "

"Then you approve of my choice?" Ray remarked, with some surprise at hisfather's interest and even anxiety to have him succeed in his suit. 

"Why not? I do not know Miss Montague, but I am sure that a niece of Mr. Dinsmore, and reared with the care which he would be likely to bestowupon her, could be objectionable to no one. Mr. Dinsmore was one of thenoblest of men, " said Mr. Palmer, with hearty commendation. 

"But Mona is only a penniless girl now, " Ray responded, determined thathis father should fully comprehend the situation. "Mr. Dinsmore's wifehas claimed all his property, I have been told, and even if I could findand win her, my bride would have to come to me without any dowry. "

"That wouldn't trouble me in the least, my boy, provided the girl herselfwas all right, " his father gravely returned. "We have enough, " hecontinued, smiling, "without desiring to enrich ourselves by marryingmoney. You shall choose your own wife, Ray, be she rich or poor, plain orbeautiful; only find a sensible little woman who will be a true wife andmake you happy, and I shall be more than satisfied. "

"Thank you, father, " Ray gratefully returned. "I wish there were more menlike yourself in the world--there would surely be fewer ill-assortedmarriages if there were. Only let me find Mona, and I will soon convinceyou that she will be a girl after your own heart, as well as mine. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

AT THE RECEPTION. 

One evening, after Ray's entire restoration to health, he and his fatherattended a reception given by an old friend of Mr. Palmer's. 

It was an unusually brilliant affair, for the Merrills were wealthypeople, and very socially inclined, and many of the best people of NewYork were present. 

Mr. Palmer was conversing with his host in a quiet way during a fewmoments while he was at liberty, when his attention was attracted by theentrance of a new arrival, whose advent seemed to create an unusualflutter of interest. 

"Who is she?" he inquired, as the lady slowly approached them, smiling, bowing, and responding to the eager greetings on every hand. "She is amagnificent-looking woman. "

"She is Mrs. Montague--a wealthy widow, and a great favorite in society, "his friend replied, while his own eyes rested admiringly upon the lady. 

"Montague! Montague!" Mr. Palmer repeated reflectively, while he said tohimself: "That is the name of Ray's little lady-love; perhaps this womanis a relative, and the girl has gone to live with her. I must find outabout that. " Then, with this thought in view, he added, aloud; "Introduceme, will you, Merrill?"

His host glanced roguishly at him, and a smile of amusement hovered abouthis lips as he replied:

"Certainly, if you wish, but I give you fair warning that she is adangerous party, and especially so to widowers--there are a dozen, moreor less, who have already had their wings thoroughly singed. "

Mr. Palmer smiled with an air of calm superiority. 

"Well, Merrill, I admit that she is as fine-looking a woman as I haveever seen, " he said, "but I believe that I am proof against theblandishments of the fair sex upon principle; for, " more gravely, "I havenever had any desire to change my condition since I lost my wife. Myreason for requesting the introduction was, I thought Mrs. Montague mightbe able to give me some information regarding another lady of the samename. "

"All right; an introduction you shall have; but pray take heed to mywarning, all the same, and look out for yourself, " was the laughingrejoinder. "Ah, " as he bowed graciously to the lady approaching them, "we are very glad to be favored with your presence this evening, and nowallow me to present a friend; Mrs. Montague, Mr. Palmer. "

The brilliant woman shot one sweeping glance out of her expressive eyesat the gentleman and then extended her faultlessly gloved hand to him incordial greeting. 

"I am very glad to make Mr. Palmer's acquaintance, " she said, graciously, "although, " she added, with a charming smile, "I cannot look upon himquite as a stranger, for I have friends who frequently speak of him, andin a way that has made one wish to know him personally. "

Mr. Palmer flushed slightly as he bowed in acknowledgment of such highpraise, and remarked that he felt himself greatly honored. 

Mrs. Montague then adroitly changed the tenor of the conversation, andkept him chatting some time, before he thought of Mona again, and when hedid, he hardly knew how to broach the subject to his companion. 

"Have you resided long in New York, Mrs. Montague?" he inquired, after aslight pause in their conversation. 

"Only about six months, but, Mr. Palmer, during that time, I have foundyour city a most delightful one, socially, " the lady returned. 

"I understand that Mrs. Montague is quite a favorite in society, whichaccounts, in a measure, perhaps, for her own enjoyment of its people, "the gentleman gallantly responded. 

Mrs. Montague flushed slightly and lowered her white lids, modestly, foran instant, and Mr. Palmer continued:

"Allow me to ask, Mrs. Montague, if you ever met Mr. Walter Dinsmore?"

"Dinsmore--Dinsmore, " repeated his fair companion, with a puzzledexpression; "it seems as if I have heard the name, and yet--I am quitesure that I have met no such person since my residence in New York. Let me see, " she added, as if suddenly remembering something--"did I notread in the papers, a short time ago, of the death of the gentleman--hewas quite a prominent citizen, was he not?"

"Yes, and much respected; he died suddenly, leaving a large fortune. Thereason I inquired if you knew him, " Mr. Palmer explained, "was because heleft a niece whose name is the same as yours, and I thought possibly youmight be a relative of the family. Miss Mona Montague is the young lady'sname. "

"Mona Montague?" repeated Mrs. Montague, burying her face for an instantin the bouquet she carried as if to inhale its perfume. "No, I thinknot--I have no relatives in New York except a nephew, who is the same asa son to me. We came to your city entire strangers to every one. But howold is this Miss Montague?"

"About eighteen years of age, I believe. She was said to be a verybeautiful girl, and every one supposed her to be Mr. Dinsmore's heiress;but it seems that he had a wife living, although he was supposedto be a widower--who claimed everything, and thus Miss Montague wasrendered homeless and penniless. She has certainly disappeared fromthe circle in which she hitherto mingled. "

"How exceedingly unfortunate!" murmured Mr. Palmer's fair listener, withapparent sympathy. 

"Very, " said the gentleman; "and as we--I feel deeply interested in her, I hoped, when I heard your name, that you might prove to be a relative, and could give me some information regarding her. "

"I should be most happy to oblige you, Mr. Palmer, " Mrs. Montague sweetlyreturned, "but I have never met the young lady, and I know nothing abouther present circumstances. Is she a connection of yours?"

"No, madame--that is, not as yet, " Mr. Palmer answered, with a slighttwinge of embarrassment. "I knew Mr. Dinsmore, however, and it seems avery sad thing that his niece should be deprived of both home andfortune, as well as her only friend, especially when he was so fond ofher and intended that she would inherit his property. I would give agreat deal to know where she is; she would not long be without a homeif I could find her. "

"Does the man want to marry the girl?" was Mrs. Montague's mental query, as she glanced keenly at her companion. "I begin to believe I should liketo see this wonderful creature. "

"You say she is very beautiful?" she remarked, aloud. 

"So I have been told, and very lovely in character, also. "

"Then you have never seen her? Surely you are very philanthropic to be sodeeply interested in an entire stranger, " Mrs. Montague observed. Then, without giving him an opportunity to reply, she asked, abruptly: "Mr. Palmer, who is that lady just entering the room? She is very striking inappearance, and what a profusion of magnificent diamonds she has onher person!"

Mr. Palmer started at this last observation, and turned to look at thenew arrival. 

He saw a woman of about thirty-five, rather stout in figure, very showilydressed, and wearing a great many exquisite diamonds of great value. 

The man's keen eyes went flashing over her with eager scrutiny, his heartbeating rapidly, as he asked himself if it might not be possible thatsome of his own precious gems were among the jewels that she wore. 

The suspicion flashed upon him, in spite of the fact that the woman was aguest in the house of his friend, for he knew that thieves had been foundmingling with the brilliant throngs attending regular receptions in NewYork, and might be again. 

But of course he could recognize none of them under such circumstances, and his face fell after one sweeping glance. 

"It would be impossible to identify any of the stones without a glass, even if they were there, " he said to himself; "for, of course, the thief, whoever she was, would have had the stones reset before wearing themanywhere. "

"Yes, " he said, aloud, "the lady has a fortune upon her person; but I donot know her. Speaking of diamonds, " he continued, glancing at theornaments which Mrs. Montague wore, "you will pardon me, I am sure, if I tell you that you, also, have some very fine stones. I considermyself a connoisseur regarding diamonds and capable of judging. "

"Yes, " Mrs. Montague quietly responded, "I have some choice ones, and Iam very fond of diamonds; but I have never seen any one, unless it was anactress, with such a profusion of them as that lady. I do not think Ishould care to wear so many at one time, even if I possessed them. "

"No, it hardly seems in good taste, " Mr. Palmer replied, then added: "Myson is beckoning me; will you excuse me for a moment?"

"Your _son_!" exclaimed the lady, with a light laugh and an arch look. "Surely, Mr. Palmer, _you_ cannot have a son old enough to mingle insociety like this?"

"Indeed I have, and you can see for yourself--he is standing yonder bythat large easel, " the gentleman returned, laughing also, and evidentlywell pleased to be regarded younger than he really was. 

"I must confess my surprise, " said the charming widow, as she darted acurious glance at the young man, "but since you assert it I must notdoubt your word, and I will say, also, that you have every reason to beproud of your son. But--I will not detain you, " she added, bowinggracefully; "only I trust that I may have the pleasure of meeting youagain. "

"Thank you, madame; you honor me, " the diamond merchant replied, as he, too, bowed, and then passed on. 

"Merrill said truly, " he muttered, as he made his way through the crowdtoward Ray; "she is certainly a very charming woman; I don't wonder thatshe is a favorite in society. Well, what is it, Ray, my boy?" he asked, as he reached his son's side. 

"Did you notice that woman who entered the room a moment or two ago?" theyoung man asked, in a low tone. 

"The one wearing so many diamonds?"

"Yes; and, father, I believe there is some of our property about her. "

"I thought of it, too, Ray, but only because she wore so many stones, Isuppose. We surely have no right to suspect her of being the thief, " saidMr. Palmer, gravely. 

"Perhaps not; but I did, all the same. "

"She does not look at all like that Mrs. Vanderbeck, " Mr. Palmerremarked, as he again singled out the woman, and observed her closely. 

"I don't know; her form is not unlike; and put a red wig on her, shemight pass--"

"Pshaw, Ray, " interrupted his father, "you are letting your imaginationrun away with you; she cannot be the same person; her features areentirely different, and she is too stout. "

"Well, that may be; but I am impressed that some of those stones belongto us, " Ray said, following the woman with a critical glance. 

"If any of them are ours, we have no means of identifying them, " Mr. Palmer responded. "I have given them up as a dead loss, and do notbelieve that we shall ever discover the thief. "

Ray looked very sober. 

"I am very sore over that affair, father, " he said, gravely. "If I hadnot allowed my head to be turned by that fascinating woman, I nevershould have lost them. She just smiled and talked all the sense out ofme. I ought never to have removed my hand from that package, even toprevent a dozen tailor-made dresses from being torn, and then she couldnot have stolen it. "

"Don't grieve over it, Ray, for it will not avail, " his father returned, kindly. "Experience is the best teacher, and no one will ever rob us inthe same way again. "

"I do not think that is likely, and yet I cannot get over it; I cannotbear to consider the gems irretrievably lost, even yet. "

"You may as well, for I am sure we shall never see any of them again, "said Mr. Palmer, calmly. 

"Who is this lady approaching us?" Ray asked, after a moment. "You weretalking to her when I motioned to you. "

Mr. Palmer glanced up. 

"That is a Mrs. Montague--"

"Montague!" interrupted Ray, in a startled tone. "Can she be anything toMona?"

"No, nothing. I asked the question upon learning her name, " his fatheranswered. 

Ray sighed heavily; then, as his glance still lingered upon the beautifulwoman, he exclaimed:

"Isn't she lovely? I believe she is the purest blonde I have ever seen. Her hair is like spun gold, her features are faultless, and her neck andarms are as perfect as if sculptured from marble. "

"Take care, Ray, " said his father, with a sly smile; "people say that sheis a perfect siren. I have myself been warned against her to-night. "

"Pshaw!" retorted the young man. "Where is her husband?"

"She has none, and therein lies the danger. "

"Ah! a widow! How old is she?"

"Not more than twenty-eight or thirty, I judge--at least, she does notlook it in full dress, and she is very charming in manner. Merrill saysthat all the men, both old and young, are making fools of themselvesover her. "

"Well, then, you and I will not help to swell the list, " said Ray, curtly, a trifle irritated that his staid and dignified father shouldhave so much to say about the gay society woman; and turning on his heel, he moved away, with the purpose of approaching the one whose diamonds hadattracted so much attention. He meant to seek an introduction, and get anopportunity to examine the stones more closely. 

Fifteen minutes later he stood bowing before her, as a friend presentedhim, and he was long in recovering from the shock which went through himas he caught the name by which she was introduced:

"Mrs. Vanderbeck, allow me to present my friend, Mr. Palmer. "

"Pardon me. Did I understand the name--Mrs. Vander_beck_?" Ray said, trying to control the rapid throbbing of his pulses, and putting a slightemphasis upon the last syllable of the name. 

He was sure that the lady started and changed color as he did so, for hewas watching her closely. 

"No, " she said; "you haven't it quite right; we spell it _h-e-c-k_. "

But she seemed strangely ill at ease during the few moments that Raystood conversing with her, while from time to time he caught herregarding him curiously. He did not, however, get any satisfactionfrom his examination of her ornaments; for among such a blazing arrayof diamonds it was impossible to tell if he had ever seen any of thembefore. 

"I believe she was connected in some way with that strange affair. She_may_ be the woman who called upon Doctor Wesselhoff to arrange for myimprisonment, " he said to himself, after he had left her. "At allevents, " he added, resolutely, "I am going to lay the matter beforeDetective Rider, and see what he thinks about it. "

He was more strongly confirmed in his suspicions a few minutes later, when he saw Mrs. Vanderheck bidding her host and hostess good-night, andthen withdraw from the company. 

About ten o'clock supper was served, and, strangely enough, after thecompany was seated, Ray found that his left-hand neighbor was no otherthan the fascinating Mrs. Montague, while, glancing beyond her, he sawthat his father had acted as her escort to the table. 

It annoyed him exceedingly to see them together, and to observe thegallantry with which his father was attending to the fair widow's wants. 

During all the years that had elapsed since the death of his mother, Mr. Palmer had not manifested the slightest desire for the society of ladies, and Ray had never thought of such a thing as his marrying again. 

But now it suddenly flashed across him: "What if this gay woman of theworld, with her beauty and powers of fascination, should tempt him tomake her the mistress of his home and wealth?"

The thought was far from agreeable to him, and yet he could not have toldwhy. 

He could find no fault with Mrs. Montague personally; she was beautifulin face and figure; she was delightful in manner. Why, then, did heshrink from the thought of having her come into the family?

Was he jealous? Was he selfish? Did he begrudge his father thecomfort and enjoyment of a more perfect domestic life? Was heunwilling to have any one come between them? Was he fearful thathis own prospects--his expectations of wealth--would be affectedby such a union?

All these questions darted through his mind, and he felt shamed andhumiliated by them. He could not analyze his feelings; he only knew thatthe thought was not pleasant to him. 

Mr. Palmer soon espied his son, and leaning back in his chair, asked, with his usual genial smile:

"Well, Ray, who have you for a companion?"

"Miss Grace Merrill, " he briefly responded. 

"Ah! a pleasant girl; but allow me to make you acquainted with yourleft-hand neighbor also; Mrs. Montague, my son, Mr. Raymond Palmer. "

Mrs. Montague turned to the young man with her most brilliant smile, though a gleam of amusement illuminated her lovely eyes, as she remarkedthe conscious flush upon the elder gentleman's face, as he performed theceremony of introduction. 

"I am delighted to meet you, Mr. Palmer, " she said: "but I could hardlybelieve that you were the son when your father pointed you out to me. "

Ray could not have been ungracious beneath the charm of her manner, evenhad he been naturally so, and he soon found himself disarmed of all hisdisagreeable reflections and basking with delight in the sunshine of herpresence, her bright wit and repartee, and her sweet, rippling laugh. Bythe time supper was over it would have been difficult to tell who wasthe more ardent admirer of the fascinating widow--the father or the son. 

Later in the evening she ran across him again by accident(?), and anotherhalf-hour spent in her society completed the glamour which she had thrownaround him at supper, and, in spite of his assertion to the contrary, itreally seemed as if Raymond Palmer was likely to help swell the "list offools" who blindly worshiped at her shrine. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

LOUIS HAMBLIN IS INTERESTED IN MONA. 

Mrs. Richmond Montague had a purpose in honoring Mr. Palmer and hishandsome son with so much of her society on the evening of Mr. Merrill'sreception. 

When Mr. Palmer had mentioned the name of Mona Montague, inquiring if shewas a relative of the young girl, a sudden shock had thrilled throughher nerves, for it was a name which, for certain reasons, with her wholeheart, she _had hated_, although, as she believed, she had never seen theyoung lady. 

Before the evening was over, however, she had learned why the diamondmerchant was so anxious to find the ex-heiress of Walter Dinsmore. 

She discovered, by adroit references and questions, by putting this andthat together, that Ray Palmer was in love with the girl; that the oldgentleman favored his suit in spite of her poverty, and would willinglyhave sanctioned an immediate marriage if she could have been found. 

"So much for this evening, and now I wish that I could find the girl, "she mused, as she stood before her mirror and removed her ornaments, after returning from the reception. "So she is beautiful! I wonder if shelooks like her mother--my hated rival! Ah! Mona Montague, I vowed that Iwould have vengeance, and I had it. You dared to come between me and theman I loved, and I swore I would crush you--I did, and now I mean tocrush your child also, if I can find her. True, I won your husband afteryou were dead and gone, but he never loved me as he loved you, in spiteof my blind idolatry for him. "

She had become greatly excited over these reflections, and, sweeping intoa heap the laces and jewels which she had removed from her person, shebegan pacing the floor with swift, angry steps. 

"I wish now, " she began again, after a time, "that I had gone to WalterDinsmore's funeral, if for nothing more than to get a glimpse of thegirl; but he bore me no good-will, and somehow I could not make up mymind to enter his house. I am sorry I didn't, for then I should haveknown this pretty little lady-love of Mr. Ray Palmer, if ever I met heragain. Now I may have a long hunt for her. It was a great oversight on mypart; but I never thought of her disappearing in such a mysterious way. "

After a while she removed her rich evening costume, then donning a warmflannel wrapper, she seated herself before the glowing grate, clasped herhands around her knees, and, gazing upon the bed of red-hot coals, shefell to musing. 

"So young Palmer is bound to marry Richmond Montague's fair daughter, "she murmured, with curling lips and a bitter laugh; "and his father isonly too willing, provided she can be found. Ha! ha! ha!" a soft, rippling laugh of intense amusement and scorn bursting from her red lips. "I wonder what they would say if they knew all that I know? I'd give agreat deal if I could ascertain just how much the girl knows aboutherself. She could make a great deal of trouble for me if--"

She broke off suddenly just here, but after a few moments of thoughtresumed, in another strain:

"I believe I shall have to cultivate my new acquaintances. I think I canplay the father against the son, and, _vice versa_, for it was evidentto-night that both, with very little encouragement, would become mywilling slaves. I imagine that the senior Palmer might make a veryagreeable companion. He is reported to be rich--a diamond merchant, andI am fond of diamonds. He is certainly very gallant and not bad-looking. Yes, I think I must cultivate him; and then, if the junior member shoulddiscover his inamorata by and by, a word in the ear of the father mightbe sufficient to blast Miss Mona's hopes, and thus complete the work Ibegan so successfully--at least in some respects--so many years ago. Ah, Madame Mona, you did not realize the strength of the spirit which youdefied that day in Paris. I made you _believe_ that your marriage was alla sham, but if I could have made it really so I should have been betterpleased with my work, for then I should have had nothing to fear, at thislate day, from your child. "

It is impossible to describe the venom and hatred that were concentratedin the voice of this beautiful woman, as she thus reviewed this portionof her history, which, as can plainly be seen, had left a keen sting inher heart, notwithstanding her boasted victory over her rival. 

It did not seem possible that she could be the same person, with herdark, revengeful face, her contracted brow, fiercely gleaming eyes, andthat cruel, bitter curl upon her lips, who, in all the glory of herbeauty and powers of fascination, had been the centre of attraction inAlexander Merrill's elegant residence less than two hours previous. 

It almost seemed as if she must be possessed of a dual nature, similarto that so cleverly represented in the story of "Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. " Then, she had been all smiles, and sweetness, and graciousness, a vision of delight, a presence that charmed and pleased every one withwhom she came in contact; now, she was transformed into a beautifulfiend, with a nature of spite and fury, and cruel revenge written uponevery delicate feature. 

She sat there in the glow of the firelight until the gilded clock onthe mantel chimed the hour of two; then, with passion and pain showingthemselves in her every movement, she arose, and without undressing, threw herself upon her bed, and wept herself to sleep. 

 * * * * *

Mona was gradually becoming accustomed to her new life, although it wasso very different from the almost charmed existence which she hadhitherto led, and had it not been for her grief for her uncle and onaccount of Ray's seeming neglect and indifference, she would not havebeen unhappy in her position. 

Mrs. Montague was not unreasonable--she did not overwork her, althoughthere was always plenty of sewing to be done. She rather enjoyed beingbusy, on the whole, while she experienced a great deal of satisfactionin knowing that she could be independent; she even felt something ofpride, in thus rising above the adverse circumstances that had sounexpectedly overtaken her. 

She was very careful about her health, for she knew that this suddenchange from her previous active care-free life to such sedentary habits, must be a great tax upon her constitution, and so she persisted in takingexercise in the open air every day, although often she would havepreferred to remain in the house. 

A couple of days after her encounter with Mr. Louis Hamblin upon thesteps of Mrs. Montague's residence, she was returning from her usualstroll, when the young man again suddenly appeared around the corner ofa street she was passing, and almost ran into her. 

"I beg your pardon, Miss Richards, " he exclaimed, stopping short, andregarding her with apparent surprise, while he lifted his hat to her withgreat politeness, "I hope I did not startle you. "

"Oh, no; and you are quite excusable, " Mona responded, but somewhatastonished that he should address her by her name; but she imagined thathe must have asked Mrs. Montague who she was. 

She was about to hasten on, when he remarked:

"Since we are both going the same way, perhaps you will allow me to walkwith you. "

Mona would have preferred to proceed on her way alone, but she had notquite the courage to say so, since he appeared so courteous, so she madeno reply at all. 

The young man took her silence for consent, and, falling into step withher, began chatting as freely as if they had been old acquaintances. 

His manner was very respectful, while there was nothing in what he saidto which she could in the least object--indeed, she found him ratherentertaining at first, and almost forgot, for the time, that she was RuthRichards, the seamstress, instead of Mona Montague, the heiress, andsocial equal of any high-toned young man whom she might meet. 

"Have you lived long in New York, Miss Richards?" Mr. Hamblin inquired, after he had rattled on about various matters, and Mona had hardlyspoken. He desired to hear her talk, that he might judge of her mentalcaliber. 

"Yes, thirteen or fourteen years, " Mona replied. 

Louis Hamblin frowned; he had hoped that she was a stranger there. 

"Ah! Then of course New York is very familiar to you, " he remarked. "Doyour friends reside here?"

"No--I have no friends;" Mona said, flushing and with starting tears. 

"Indeed, " returned her companion, in a tone of sympathy, "I noticed thatyou were in mourning--I am very sorry. "

Mona had heard so few words of sympathy of late that she came near losingher self-control at this, and she found herself unable to make any reply, lest her tears should fall. 

"You look very delicate, too, " her companion continued, bending a curiousglance upon her. "I am sure you have not always lived as you are livingnow; it must be very hard to sit and sew all day. I hope you find my auntconsiderate, Miss Richards. "

Mona was astonished at this last remark which she thought was in very badtaste, and she turned a cold, questioning glance upon him. 

"If at any time you should not, " he went on, flippantly, "just let meknow, Miss Richards, and I will see what I can do for you, for I haveconsiderable influence with Aunt Marg. "

Mona looked amazed, and wondered what he could mean by speaking in sucha way of Mrs. Montague. 

He had made a grand mistake in assuming that she should make a confidantof him--an entire stranger--in the event of her being overworked by hisaunt. 

"Mrs. Montague has been very good, " she said, icily, and drawing herslight, graceful figure haughtily erect, "but--if at any time I _should_find my duties heavier than I could perform faithfully, I should tell_her_ so and seek some other position. "

Mr. Hamblin flushed hotly--not with embarrassment, although he had seldomhad such a rebuff, but with anger and chagrin that a poor sewing-girlwhom he had seen fit to patronize, should dare to give him such aset-back. 

But he had no intentions of being beaten at his game, and so curbed hisire for the time. 

"Pardon me, " he humbly responded, "I did not mean to offend you nor tointerfere, 'pon my word I didn't; only you seem so delicate and unfit forsuch a life; and fashionable ladies have such oceans of work to be donethat they sometimes crowd their help--I--"

"Excuse me--I must leave you here; my work is waiting for me, " Monainterposed, coldly, and cutting him short as they reached Mrs. Montague'sresidence. 

She ran lightly up the steps and rang the bell before he could offer toadmit her with his latch-key as before. 

A servant let her in immediately, and she went directly up stairs, without deigning her would-be escort another word or look, while shecarried herself with so much hauteur that he knew she resented hispresumptuous familiarity. 

"Hoity toity!" he muttered, with a crimson face; "our pretty seamstresshath the manner of a princess! One would almost suppose that she had beenborn and bred in a palace and was the mistress of millions, instead ofbeing only a common working-girl and dependent upon the skill of her owndainty fingers for her living. But she is wonderfully interesting, asidefrom her beauty, and I must change my tactics or I shall never get intoher good graces. Who would have dreamed that she would have the sense toresent my offer. Most girls would have blushed, simpered, and thanked me, feeling flattered with my condescending interest. "

Mr. Hamblin did change his tactics. 

The next morning, when Mona went into the sewing-room, she found a tinyvase filled with choice flowers upon her table. 

She suspected that Mr. Hamblin might have been the donor, and she wasannoyed that he should presume to take such a liberty upon so slight anacquaintance. Still, she was not sure that he had put them there, and thepretty things made a bright spot in the room, while their fragrance wasnot without its charm for her; so she did enjoy them in a measure. 

"Where did you get your flowers, Ruth?" Mrs. Montague inquired, when shecame in later to inquire regarding a wrap that was being mended, andespied them. 

"My flowers!" Mona said, determined that she would not claim them; "theyare not mine, and I do not know who put them here. I found them on thetable when I came down this morning. "

Mrs. Montague frowned, but said nothing more. 

She suspected who had made the floral offering, however, and secretlyresolved that Louis should not be guilty of continuing such attentions toher seamstress. 

She gave orders to Mary to go into the sewing-room every morning beforebreakfast, and if she found flowers there to take them down to thedining-room and put them upon the table. 

The girl found a bouquet on Mona's table three mornings in succession. 

She carried out her mistress' instructions to the letter, and Mr. LouisHamblin, observing the disposition of his expensive gifts, imagined thatthe pretty seamstress herself had taken this way to reject them. 

The measure angered him, and only made him more resolute to conquerMona's indifference and pride. 

"By Jove!" he said to himself, as he gazed frowningly upon the discardedblossoms, "I believe I am really becoming interested in the proud littlebeauty, and I must find some other way to bring her around. It is evidentthat she recognizes the social distance between us, and wishes me tounderstand it. Perhaps, however, with a little judicious coaxing of adifferent character, I may win her to a more friendly mood. "

He waylaid Mona several times after that, while she was out walking, but, though she never forgot to conduct herself in the most lady-like mannershe plainly indicated by her coldness and reserve that she did not careto cultivate Mr. Hamblin's acquaintance. 

This opposition to his wishes only made him the more persistent, andadded zest to his pursuit of her. 

The girl's exquisite beauty and grace--her high-bred self-possession andpolished manner--impressed him as he had never been impressed before, even by the society girls whom he was in the habit of meeting, and KittyMcKenzie's charms grew pale and dim beside the brighter and more perfectloveliness of this dainty sewing-girl. 

When Mona found that the young man persisted in following her and forcinghis society upon her, she changed the time of her daily walk to an hourwhen she knew he would be down town, and she also took care to go indifferent directions, thus successfully avoiding him for some time. 

But fortune favored him later on. 

One morning Mrs. Montague came into the sewing-room all animation, andbeaming with smiles. 

"Ruth, I am going to ask a great favor of you, " she said: "I wonder ifyou will oblige me. "

"Certainly, Mrs. Montague, I shall be very glad to do so, if it is withinmy power, " Mona readily responded. 

"Well, then, " continued the lady, "I am invited to spend a week atthe residence of a friend who lives near Rhinebeck, a little way upthe Hudson. Quite a party are going also, and great preparations havebeen made for us. In fact, it is to be a sort of carnival, on a smallscale, and is to wind up with a grand ball. Now, I want you to go withme, Ruth, to help arrange my different costumes, and to act as a kindof dressing-maid--you have such good taste and judgment. Will you go?You will, of course, be relieved from your regular work, while, perhaps, you will find the rest and change agreeable. "

Mona thought a few moments before replying. 

Her only objection to going with Mrs. Montague was she feared she mightmeet people whom she had known and associated with before her uncle died. She dreaded to be ignored or treated rudely by old acquaintances. Shecould not forget her recent experience at Macy's. 

But she reasoned that she might not see any one whom she knew; she hadnever met Mrs. Montague in society, and her circle of friends might beentirely different from those with whom she had mingled. She longed fora respite from ceaseless stitching, and for some change of scene, and shefinally resolved to go. 

"Why, yes, I am perfectly willing to attend you if you wish, " she said atlast. 

"Thank you--you have relieved my mind of quite a burden, for I feared youmight decline my request, " Mrs. Montague returned, and then went away todo her packing. 

They were to leave New York that afternoon, but Mona had not once thoughtthat Louis Hamblin would be likely to be one of the party, until hejoined Mrs. Montague at the station. 

There were a dozen or fifteen people in the party, and the young man wasdevotedly attentive to a pretty dark-eyed girl, who was addressed asKitty McKenzie. 

His eyes lighted with a flash of pleasure, however, the moment he caughtsight of Mona, although he betrayed no other sign that he had ever seenher before. 

The fair girl flushed with indignation at this slight. 

Not because she was at all anxious to have him take notice of her, butbecause he failed to treat her, in the presence of his friends and socialequals, with the courtesy which he had always been so eager to show herelsewhere. 

It was a very gay party, and, as a drawing-room car had been charteredfor their especial use, there was nothing to impose any restraint uponthem, and mirth and pleasure reigned. 

Two-thirds of the company were young people, and Kitty McKenzie was oneof the merriest of the group, and apparently a great favorite, while itcould be readily seen that the attentions of Louis Hamblin were veryacceptable to her--her every look and smile, when conversing with him, indicating that he was far more to her than an ordinary acquaintance. 

When they arrived at their destination carriages were found to be inwaiting to take the party to Hazeldean, the residence of Mr. Wellington, who was to entertain the company for the ensuing week. 

A drive of a mile brought them to the fine estate, where an imposingmansion stood in the middle of a beautiful park. The interior of thedwelling was in perfect keeping with its exterior--luxury and beautyprevailed on every hand, and it was really an ideal place in which toentertain a numerous company. 

The wide, mammoth hall ran the whole length of the house, while numerousrooms opened into it, with wide doors sliding upward, so that almost thewhole of the lower floor could be made into one grand room. The floorswere of hard wood, and polished to the last degree of brightness, andwere, as Kitty McKenzie merrily remarked, while she executed a gaypirouette on entering, "just capital for dancing. "

The upper stories were equally spacious, and luxuriously furnished--itreally seemed like a great hotel, only far more home-like andcomfortable. 

The guests were soon assigned to their apartments, and Mona was gratifiedto find that, instead of being consigned to some remote corner of thegreat house, she had a cozy room opening directly into the one occupiedby Mrs. Montague. 

CHAPTER XV. 

A GAY COMPANY AT HAZELDEAN. 

The week that followed was one never to be forgotten. Such feasting andmerry-making, such excursions, and card parties, and dancing parties Monahad never witnessed. 

She had read of such scenes occurring in the great manor-houses ofEngland, and had often thought that she should like to witness somethingof the kind; but she did not imagine that Americans had yet attainedthe art of displaying such magnificent hospitality. It was a carnival, indeed, from the evening of their arrival until the morning of theirdeparture. 

It was the month of February, there was no snow on the ground, and theweather was very mild and more like early spring, than winter, so thatevery morning there was planned an excursion of some kind--either adrive or a canter on horseback to different points of interest in thatpicturesque section, which everybody appeared to enjoy as well as ifall nature had been at the height of its glory in midsummer. 

Mona, of course, was never invited to join these excursions; she wasregarded as nothing but a seamstress or a maid, and most of the companywould have scorned the idea of thus associating with her upon equalterms. 

Her heart often swelled with bitter pain as she watched a gay cavalcaderide away through the park, for she dearly loved horseback riding, andshe well knew that six months previous she would have been most cordiallywelcomed by every member of that merry company. 

She wondered what had become of her pretty saddle-horse, Jet, and heruncle's proud steed, Banquo, and sighed regretfully as she reviewed thehappy past, when they four--for the horses had seemed almost human--hadroamed over the country together. She sometimes even longed to be back inNew York among her piles of sewing, for she had not enough to do now tooccupy her time, and it often hung heavily on her hands, thus allowingpainful memories to depress her. 

The third morning after their arrival, just as a gay party was on thepoint of starting off, Mona, being at liberty, thought she would slipdown to the library and try to find an entertaining book to pass away thelong hours before lunch. 

She was half-way down stairs, when Kitty McKenzie came runningbreathlessly back, looking flushed and exceedingly disappointed oversomething. 

"Oh, dear!" she cried, as she was passing Mona; "I tripped in myriding-habit, and have ripped the facing so badly that I must changeit and go in the carriage with mamma. It is too bad, for I had theloveliest pony to ride. "

"Have you ripped it too badly to have it repaired?" Mona asked, sorry tohave the gay girl deprived of her coveted pleasure. 

"Yes, for it takes me forever to mend anything. I am a wretched bunglerwith my needle, " she confessed, with engaging frankness, but with aconscious blush. 

"Let me see it, " and Mona stooped to examine the rip. "This is not sobad, after all, " she continued, cheerfully. "Just come to my room, and Iwill catch it up for you; I can do it in less time than it would take tochange your dress. "

"_Can_ you? Oh, that will be so good of you!" and, delighted that she wasnot to be deprived of her ride, Miss Kitty followed Mona, with a brightface and an eager step. 

Five minutes sufficed for our young seamstress to make the garmentwearable, and then she told Miss McKenzie that if she would bring thehabit to her upon her return, she would repair it more thoroughly. 

The kind-hearted girl was very grateful. 

"How kind you are to do it!" she cried, as Mona smoothed the heavy foldsinto place, then, with a sudden impulse and a sympathetic look into thefair face of the seamstress, she added: "What a pity it is that you haveto stay here all by yourself, while the rest of us are having suchdelightful times! Why cannot you come with us, Miss Richards? I will makemamma let you go with her--there is an extra seat in that carriage. "

"Thank you; you are very good to suggest it, Miss McKenzie, but I cannotgo, " Mona answered, with a flush, but touched that the girl should wishher to share her pleasures. 

"I am sure you would enjoy it, for you are young, and it is too bad to beobliged to stay indoors this delightful weather, and I imagine, if thetruth were known, you could be as gay as anybody, while truly, " with anarch, winsome glance, "I believe you are the prettiest girl here. Do youknow how to dance?"

"Yes. "

"Then I think I can manage it--if you would like it, Miss Richards--tohave you join the german this evening; will you?"

"You are very thoughtful, Miss McKenzie, " Mona replied, appreciatively, "but I should feel out of place, even if others were as kindly disposedas yourself. "

"You have had trouble--you have lost friends, " Miss Kitty remarked, glancing at her black dress. 

"Yes--all that I had in the world, " Mona returned, with a quivering lipand a sigh that was almost a sob; for the sweet girl's kindly interestmoved her deeply. 

"I am sorry, " said her companion, simply, but sincerely. Then shecontinued, with heartiness: "But let me count myself your friend afterthis--will you? I think you are very nice, and I believe it would bevery easy to love you--you poor, lonely child!" and before Mona realizedher intention, she had stooped and kissed her softly on the cheek. 

She did not give her any opportunity to reply, but tripped away, flushingover her own impulsive familiarity. 

She looked back over her shoulder as she reached the door and added:

"Good-by, Miss Richards; remember, you and I are to be friends; and thankyou ever so much for mending my dress. "

She was gone before Mona could answer, even to tell her that she was verywelcome, but her heart warmed toward the bright, genial maiden, and shestood listening, with a smile on her lips, to the sound of her littlefeet pattering down the stairs, and the next moment she caught her merrylaugh as some one swung her lightly into her saddle. 

Then Mona went down to the library, where she selected a book, and then, finding the room empty, she decided to remain where she was for a while. 

Rolling a great easy-chair into a deep bay-window, she nestled, with afeeling of pleasure, in its cozy depths, and was soon deeply absorbed inthe contents of her book. 

She must have been reading half an hour when a slight sound in anotherportion of the room startled her. Turning to see what had caused it, shesaw Louis Hamblin standing between the parted portieres of an archway, and gazing upon her, a smile of triumph on his handsome face. 

Mona sprang from her chair, looking the surprise she felt, for she didnot suppose he was in the house. 

"Do not rise, Miss Richards, " said the young man, as he came forward. "Itis really a great pleasure to find you here, but I pray that you will notallow me to disturb you. "

"I thought you had gone with the party, " the young girl said, hardlyknowing how to reply to him, but deeply annoyed by his presence. 

"No; I had a raging toothache all night, so had to make up my rest thismorning and have but just eaten breakfast. But sit down, Miss Richards;everybody has gone off and left me behind; I am lonely, and nothing wouldsuit me better than a social little chat with yourself, " he concluded, with obnoxious familiarity. 

Mona drew her graceful form to its full height, while her red lips curledscornfully. 

"Thank you, but it might be considered in bad taste for one in Mr. Hamblin's position to be found chatting socially with his aunt'sseamstress, whom he is not supposed to know, " she said, a note of sarcasmin her tone. 

The young man laughed out lightly. 

"Ah! you resent it because I did not recognize you the day we came toHazeldean, " he returned; "but you will forgive me, I know, when I tellyou that I avoided betraying the fact of our previous acquaintancesimply for your own good. I feared it might make you conspicuous if Isaluted you, as I wished to do, and my aunt is very particular aboutthe proprieties of life. "

Mona smiled proudly. She failed to perceive how a courteous recognitioncould have made her conspicuous or violated in any way the most rigidlaws of etiquette. 

"In that case we will continue to observe the proprieties of life uponall occasions, " she dryly remarked. 

He read her thoughts, and was keenly stung by her words. 

"Forgive me, " he said, with an assumption of regret and humility, thinking thus the better to gain his end; "had I realized that you wouldhave been so wounded I should have acted very differently. I assure you Iwill never offend you in the same way again. "

"Pray do not be troubled, " Mona coldly retorted. "I had no thought ofresenting anything which you might consider proper to do. If I thought ofthe matter at all, it was only in connection with the generally acceptedprinciples of courtesy and good-breeding. "

Mr. Hamblin flushed hotly at this keen shaft, but he ignored it, andchanged the subject. 

"I am sorry to have interrupted you in your reading, Miss Richards. Whathave you that is interesting?"

"Victor Hugo's 'Les Miserables, '" Mona briefly replied. 

"Have you?" the young man eagerly demanded, "I was searching for thatbook only yesterday. May I look at it one moment? McArthur and I hadquite a discussion upon a point regarding Father Madelaine, and we wereunable to settle it because we could not find the book. "

Mona quietly passed the volume to him; but a blank look overspread hisface as he took it. 

"Why, it is the original!" he exclaimed, "and I do not read Frenchreadily. Are you familiar with it?"

"Oh, yes, " and Mona smiled slightly. 

She had been accounted the finest French scholar in her class. 

Mr. Hamblin regarded her wonderingly. 

"Where did you learn French to be able to read it at sight?" he inquired. 

"At school. "

"But--I thought--" he began, and stopped confused. 

"You thought that a common seamstress must necessarily be ignorant, aswell as poor, " Mona supplemented: "that she would not be likely to haveopportunities or ambition for self-improvement. Well, Mr. Hamblin, perhaps some girls in such a position would not, but I honestly believethat there is many a poor girl, who has had to make her own way in life, who is better educated than many of the so-called society belles ofto-day. "

"I believe it, too, if you are a specimen, " her companion returned, as hegazed admiringly into Mona's flushed and animated face. 

"At any rate, " he added, "you are far more beautiful than the majority ofsociety girls. "

"Mr. Hamblin will please reserve his compliments for ears more eager forand more accustomed to them, " Mona retorted, with a frown of annoyance. 

"Why are you so proud and scornful toward me, Miss Richards?" heappealingly asked. "Can you not see that my admiration for you isgenuine--that I really desire to be your friend? And why have youavoided me so persistently of late--why have you rejected my flowers?"

"Because, " Mona frankly answered, and meeting his glance squarely, "Iknow, and _you_ know, that it is not proper for you to offer, nor for meto accept, such attentions, even if I desired them. "

"I am my own master; you are your own mistress, if, as you say, you arealone in the world; consequently, such a matter lies between ourselves, without regard to what others might consider as 'proper, ' And I may aswell make an open confession first as last, " he went on, eagerly, andbending nearer to her, with a flushed face. "Ruth, my beautiful Ruth, Ilove you--I began to love you that morning when we met on the stepsbefore our own door, and every day has only increased my affection foryou. "

A startled look swept over Mona's face, which had now grown very pale. She had not had a suspicion that she was destined to hear such adeclaration as this; it had taken her wholly unawares, and for amoment she was speechless. 

But she soon recovered herself. 

"Stop!" she haughtily cried "you have no right to use such language tome; you would not presume--you would not _dare_ to do so upon so brief anacquaintance, if I stood upon an equal footing with you, socially. It isonly because I am poor and unprotected--because you simply wish to amuseyourself for a time. You would not dare to repeat in the presence of Mrs. Montague what you have just said to me. Now let me pass, if you please, and never presume to address me again as you have to-day. "

The indignant girl looked like some beautiful princess as she stoodbefore him and thus resented the insult he had offered her. 

Her slight form was held proudly erect, her small head was uplifted withan air of scorn, her eyes blazed forth angry contempt as they met his, while her whole bearing indicated a conscious superiority which bothhumiliated and stung her would-be suitor. 

She had never appeared so beautiful to him before. Her face was as pureas a pearl; her glossy hair, falling loosely away from her whiteforehead, was simply coiled at the back of her small head, thus revealingits symmetrical proportions to the best advantages. Her great brown eyesglowed and scintillated, her nostrils dilated, her lips quivered withoutraged pride and delicacy. 

Her dress of dead black fell in soft, clinging folds about her slenderform, making her seem taller than she really was, while one hand had beenraised to enforce the commands which she had laid upon him. 

He thought her the fairest vision he had ever seen, in spite of herindignation against him, and if she had sought to fascinate him--to weavethe spell of her witchery more effectually about him, she could havetaken no surer way to do so. 

He could not fail to admire her spirit--it but served to glorify her inhis sight, and made him more eager than before to conquer her. 

"Nay, do not leave me thus--do not be so bitter against me, my peerlessRuth, " he pleaded. "Perhaps I have been premature in my avowal, but I begthat you will not despise me on that account. Do not judge me so harshly. Lay my impatience rather to my eagerness to win you. I would do anythingin the world to make you love me, and now, I fear, I have only beendriving you farther from me. I love you, honestly and sincerely, mybeautiful Ruth, and I would not only dare to confess it to my aunt, butproclaim it before the world, if that would serve to prove it to you. Ah!teach me how to woo you, my darling; give me but a crumb of hope uponwhich to feed, and I will try to be satisfied until you can learn tohave more confidence in me. "

He reached forth his arms as if he would have infolded her; and Mona, whofor the moment had been rendered spell-bound by the swift rush of burningwords that he had poured forth, seemed suddenly electrified by the act. 

She felt both insulted and humiliated by this premature avowal of alove that had not received the slightest encouragement from her, andshe recoiled from him with a gesture of contempt. 

"I wonder how you have dared to say this to me, " she cried, in a voicethat quivered with indignation, "when in my very presence you have shownanother attentions such as a man has a right to bestow only upon thewoman whom he intends to marry. But for the respect I owe myself and mysex, I would like to brand you with a mark that would betray yourdisloyalty to the world, and make Miss McKenzie despise you as I do;being only a weak woman, however, I must content myself with simplymanifesting my scorn, and by telling you to go!" and she pointedauthoritatively toward the door with one white taper finger. 

A hot, crimson flush dyed the young man's white face with a sense ofshame, such as he had never before experienced in the presence of anyone, while the purple veins stood out in ridges upon his forehead. 

He was completely cowed before her. Conscious himself of the insincerityand unworthiness of his declaration, he knew that she also had read himlike an open book, and the knowledge made him fearfully angry; while tobe foiled in his purpose and browbeaten by this girl, whom he imagined tobe only what she seemed, was more than his indomitable spirit couldtamely submit to. 

"A love like mine is not to be despised, and you shall yet find it so, "he muttered between his tightly shut teeth. 

Mona would not deign him a reply, but standing in the same attitude, sheagain motioned him to go. 

Unable longer to endure the unflinching gaze of her clear, scornful eyes, he shrank back through the portieres, which instantly fell into placeagain, and Mona, with a smile of disdain curving her red lips, went backto her seat by the window. 

But all enjoyment in her book was gone; she was much excited, for she hadbeen greatly shaken by the interview and made to feel her position as shenever yet had done; and after sitting a few moments gazing sadly out ofthe window she again went up to her own room. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

MONA LEARNS SOMETHING OF RAY. 

That same evening as Mona was passing up stairs from the laundry, whithershe had been to press out the ruffles of a dress, which Mrs. Montaguewished to wear at the german a few hours later, she heard the hall-bellring a resounding peal. 

She hastened on, for she did not wish to be observed by strangers, but asshe reached the upper landing, she caught some hearty words of welcomefrom Mr. Wellington, the host, and knew that another guest had arrived. 

But she suddenly stopped short, and the color receded from her cheeks, while her heart beat with quick, heavy throbs as she heard the name ofPalmer pronounced. 

"Can it be possible that Ray Palmer is the newcomer?" she asked herself. 

She leaned over the banister, curiosity and an eager longing promptingher to ascertain if he were the guest. 

But no, it was not Ray. 

She saw instead an elderly gentleman, of benevolent and genialappearance, who seemed to be a valued friend of the family, judgingfrom the enthusiastic greeting which his host accorded him. 

"Well, well, Palmer, you are rather late in the week, but none the lesswelcome on that account, " remarked Mr. Wellington. "We have been havinggay times, and I have only needed your presence to make my enjoymentcomplete. But where is that precious son of yours? How is it that Raymonddid not come with you?"

Mona held her breath at this. 

The question had told her that the new arrival was Ray's father, and thatthe young man had also been invited to join the gay company that wassojourning beneath the hospitable roof. 

She leaned farther over the railing that she might not fail to catch Mr. Palmer's reply. 

"Oh, " answered that gentleman, as he removed his overcoat and gloves, "Ray is not yet quite as strong as we could wish, although he callshimself well, and he feels hardly equal to much dissipation as yet. Besides, he is rather depressed just now. "

"Over the affair of the diamonds, I suppose?" Mr. Wellington observed. 

"Yes, and--some other matter that troubles him. "

"I am very sorry. I was depending upon him to help amuse some of our fairyoung guests, " said his host. Then he added, with considerable interest:"Any new developments regarding that remarkable robbery?"

"No; and I do not imagine there ever will be, " Mr. Palmer gravelyreturned. 

"Then you have given up all hope of ever recovering them?"

"Well, almost, though I have a detective on the lookout yet, and hethinks if he can get track of the thief in this case, she will prove tobe the very woman that he has been searching for during the last threeyears. He imagines that she is the same one who was concerned in a boldswindle in Chicago about that time. "

"Well, I sincerely hope that he will be successful in finding her; suchwickedness should not be allowed to prosper, " said Mr. Wellington. "I amreally sorry about Ray, though--he is such capital company, and there aresix or eight wonderfully pretty girls here who will be deeplydisappointed when they learn that he is not coming at all. "

The two gentlemen passed into the drawing-room just then, and Mona heardnothing more. 

She deeply sighed, and continued to stand there for some moments lost inthought. 

She could not really make up her mind whether she was more disappointedthan rejoiced over Ray's failure to meet this engagement. 

It would have been very pleasant to see him again, but it would also havebeen very humiliating to have him find her there in the capacity of aservant, and ignore her on this account, as Louis Hamblin had done. Shestill felt most keenly his apparent neglect of her during her troubles, and of course, being entirely ignorant of what had occurred, sheattributed it to the most unworthy motives, which, however, did not helpto reconcile her to the loss of his friendship. 

She gathered from what Mr. Palmer had said about his not being quitestrong yet that Ray had been ill, and she wondered, too, what he hadmeant by his being depressed on account of some other matter that wastroubling him. 

She had also learned something new about the robbery, of which she hadonly had a faint hint from the little item which she had read in thepaper on the day she went to Mrs. Montague's. She gleaned now that Rayhad in some way been responsible for the loss--or, at least felt himselfto be so to some extent. 

She wished that she could have heard more about him, and she wasconscious of a deeper sense of loneliness and friendliness, from thislittle rift in the cloud that had shut her out of the world where onceshe had been so happy. 

Another sigh escaped her as she slowly turned to go on to her room andalmost unconsciously she cried out, with a little sob of pain andlonging:

"Oh, Ray, Ray!"

"Aha!"

The ejaculation startled the young girl beyond measure. She did not dreamthat there was any one near her. She had been so absorbed in observingMr. Palmer and listening to what had occurred in the lower hall, and inher own sad thoughts, that she was unconscious that any one had stolen upon her unawares, and had also been a witness to the interview between Mr. Palmer and Mr. Wellington, until this exclamation made her look up. Shefound herself again face to face with Louis Hamblin. 

"Aha!" he repeated, in a tone of triumph, but with a frown upon his brow;"that explains why my suit was so disdained this morning! So you knowand--love Mr. Raymond Palmer! My pretty Ruth, pray tell me how this youngApollo managed to inspire the princess of sewing-girls with such tendersentiments, that I may profit by his successful method. "

"Let me pass!" Mona commanded, as, straight as a young palm, sheconfronted the insolent fellow with blazing cheeks and flashing eyes. 

"It makes you wonderfully pretty to get angry, " he returned, with agleeful chuckle; "but I am not going to let you pass until you tell mewhen and where you made young Palmer's acquaintance, " and he continuedto stand directly in her path. 

"Do you imagine that you can _compel_ me to say _anything_?" Mona burstforth, with stinging contempt, her patience all gone. "Let this be thelast time that you ever waylay or persecute me with your attentions, for, I give you fair warning, a repetition of such conduct on your partwill send me straight to Mrs. Montague with a full report of it. "

The young man looked decidedly crestfallen at this spirited threat. 

There was but one person in the world of whom he stood in awe, and thatwas his aunt, Margaret Montague. 

He well knew that it would not be for his interest to offend her, and, ofall things, he would dread most a revelation of what had occurred in thelibrary that morning, notwithstanding he had affirmed to Mona that he waswilling to proclaim his affection before her and the whole world. 

Besides, if it should come to the ears of Kitty McKenzie, his prospectsof a marriage with that pretty and wealthy young lady would be blighted, and no end of trouble would follow, for Mrs. Montague had determinedto effect a union between them, and if he should go contrary to herwishes, she could make it very uncomfortable for him pecuniarily. 

Still, he was deeply smitten with the beautiful young seamstress, and wasrapidly becoming more so every time he met her. 

He had promised himself the pleasure of a secret flirtation with her, while at the same time he intended to continue his attentions to MissMcKenzie in public, and he did not like to be balked in his purpose. 

He saw that he could never intimidate her into any concessions; she wasfar too high-spirited and straightforward; so he must adopt othermeasures if he would win. 

"Certainly you shall pass, if you wish, " he said, respectfully, as hestepped aside; "but please do not be quite so unkind; and, by the way, can you tell me what the old codger down below meant by his son beingupset about the diamonds?"

He knew well enough, for of course he had seen the accounts of the affairin the papers; but he had an object in wishing to find out how much Monaknew. 

"No, I cannot, " she coldly replied, as, with uplifted head and haughtybearing, she passed him and entered Mrs. Montague's room. 

While this incident was occurring in the hall of the second story, Mr. Amos Palmer was being introduced to the company below. 

His advent caused quite a flutter of excitement among the young ladies;for most of them were acquainted with Ray, who for nearly two years hadbeen a great favorite in society, and they had been led to expect that hewas to join their company at Hazeldean. 

Great disappointment was expressed when they learned that he was notlikely to put in an appearance at all, and Mr. Palmer began to feel sorrythat he had not insisted upon having his son come with him. 

Mr. Wellington was full of wit and pleasantry, and made merry, as he wentaround the room with his friend, to introduce the strangers to him. 

As they came to Mrs. Montague, he was somewhat surprised when the ladygreeted Mr. Palmer with great cordiality. 

"I have already the pleasure of Mr. Palmer's acquaintance, " she said, with one of her most alluring smiles, as she extended her hand to him, and forthwith she entered into conversation with him, thus effectuallychaining him to her side. 

He seemed only too well pleased to linger there--he was, in fact, awilling captive to her wiles, a circumstance which the bright eyes of theyounger portion of the company did not fail to observe and to commentupon, with something of amusement, and not a little of the match-makingspirit of their own mammas. 

"Girls!" exclaimed Alice Farwell, a gay, dashing beauty of twenty, to agroup of friends whom she had coaxed into a corner, "do you know that aromance has begun here this evening?--a romance that will not be long inculminating in matrimony? Oh! don't go to pluming your feathers, " shecontinued, as there was a general flutter, "for we _young_ Americans willnot figure in the story at all, though we may possibly be invited to thewedding. Oh, if it should prove to be the only match of the season!" andwith a long-drawn sigh, she glanced mischievously across the room, towardthe recent arrival, who was apparently oblivious of all, save theattractions of the charming Mrs. Montague. 

Talk of match-making mammas!

This bevy of young girls became so engrossed in watching the progress ofthe romance which was then being enacted in their presence, that theyforgot to flirt themselves, and took pains to help it on in everypossible way. 

"It will be just the nicest match in the world, " said Edith Brown, delightfully. "Mr. Palmer is a fine-looking old gentleman, and Mrs. Montague, though she seems a great deal younger, will make him a lovelywife. "

"It will be so suitable, too, for they are both rich, and stand high insociety, " whispered a third, with an eye to worldly prosperity. 

"And she can have all the diamonds she wants, " chimed in a little miss ofsixteen, "for he is a diamond merchant, you know. "

This remark caused a general laugh, and then the conversation turned uponthe recent robbery, which was discussed at some length. 

"Who would have thought of decoying Ray Palmer into Doctor Wesselhoff'sretreat?" exclaimed Alice Farwell. "It was a very daring thing to do. Bythe way, I wonder what the reason _is_ young Palmer did not come with hisfather? I can't quite believe he isn't well enough, for I saw him onlythe day before we left New York, and he was walking down Broadway with asmuch energy as any one, only he looked a trifle pale and anxious. "

"I wish he would come up for the grand hop on next Monday, " said EdithBrown. "He is capital company, and a delightful partner. I am going tocoax Mr. Palmer to send for him. Come, girls, he has monopolized ourpretty widow long enough; suppose we break up the conference and put inour petition. "

The merry maidens were nothing loath to have another handsome escortadded to their number, and, headed by the audacious Edith, they wentin a body to make their request of Mr. Palmer. 

"Well, it is too bad to have Ray miss all this, " he said, smilingly, whenthey allowed him an opportunity to reply. "I believe it would do him goodto come, and he could not help enjoying himself here, " he added, as hisgenial eyes rested on the bright faces before him. "I believe I willtelegraph him in the morning. "

The fair petitioners were satisfied with their success, and, dinner beingannounced just then, the subject was dropped for the time. 

After dinner there was a progressive whist party for an hour, at the endof which there was considerable fun occasioned by the awarding of theprizes, and after that everybody was ready for the german. 

But great disappointment was expressed when they found that there was onelady lacking to enable them all to participate in the dance. 

"What shall we do?--no one wants to sit and look on--it is very stupid, and the rest of us wouldn't enjoy it, either, to have any wallflowersabout, " Kitty McKenzie regretfully remarked. "Oh! Mrs. Montague, "she added, as if the idea had just occurred to her, "there is your prettyseamstress; may she not come, just for this once?"

Mrs. Montague hesitated. 

"Please, " persisted the generous-hearted Kitty; "she is very nice andlady-like; I am sure no one could object to her, and I know she wouldenjoy it. "

Two or three others seconded the proposal, and the lady then gave herconsent, though with evident reluctance. 

Miss Kitty, all elated with the success of her project, and neverdreaming that Mona would not enjoy it, ran away to bring her down. 

She found her in her own room reading a recent magazine. 

"Come, " she said, with gleaming eyes, "you are to join us in the german. I have Mrs. Montague's permission, and we are all waiting for you. "

"I thank you very much Miss McKenzie, " Mona responded, flushing, "but Ido not believe I will go down. "

"Oh, do; we need just one more lady, and some of the gentlemen willhave to sit it out if you do not. Miss Nellie Wellington has to playfor us, or she would dance, so please come, " Miss Kitty urged, lookingdisappointed enough over Mona's unexpected refusal. 

Mona shrank from joining the dancers, or from mingling with the company, for several reasons. 

She had no heart for dancing, so soon after her uncle's death; shedisliked to go among people who would regard her as an inferior, and onlytolerate her presence because she would help to "fill out, " while last, but not least, she wished to keep out of Louis Hamblin's way. 

But she did not like to appear disobliging or unappreciative of MissMcKenzie's kindness, and a bright idea suddenly occurred to her. 

"I really do not care to dance, Miss McKenzie, although it is verythoughtful of you to invite me; but if it will be agreeable to thecompany, I will take Miss Wellington's place at the piano, and shecan make up the desired number. "

"Oh, _can_ you play?" cried Kitty, both astonished and delighted. "Thatwill help us out, and I am sure it is very nice of you to offer, for Ithink it is awfully stupid to play for dancing. Come, then, and I knoweverybody will be surprised as well as pleased. "

And winding her arm about the slender waist of the fair seamstress, theywent down stairs together, Miss McKenzie chatting away as sociably as ifthey had always been friends and equals. 

Mrs. Montague lifted her eyebrows with well-bred astonishment when theyoung lady informed the company that Miss Richards preferred to presideat the piano, and a number of others appealed to share her surprise, andlooked somewhat skeptical, also. 

They were more amazed still when she modestly took her seat and began herduties, for Mona was perfectly at home in music, and soon made the roomring with inspiring melody for the eager dancers. 

"Who is that beautiful and talented girl?" Amos Palmer asked of his host, when the young people were tired of dancing, and Mona quietly withdrewfrom the room. 

"Her name is Ruth Richards, I believe, " Mr. Wellington replied. 

"You 'believe!' Isn't she a guest here?" inquired Mr. Palmer, withsurprise. 

"No; she is simply a maid in the employ of Mrs. Montague. "

"Well, it is a great pity. "

"What is a great pity?"

"That such a lovely young lady should have to serve any one in thatcapacity; she is beautiful and talented enough to fill any position. "

And this was Amos Palmer's opinion regarding Ray's unknown lady-love. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

MRS. MONTAGUE QUESTIONS MONA. 

"Where did you learn to play the piano, Ruth?" Mrs. Montague inquired thenext morning, while Mona was engaged in assisting her to dress, and sheturned a searching glance upon her as she put the question. 

To conceal the flush that mounted to her brow, Mona stooped to pick up apin. 

It had not occurred to her, when she offered to play for the dancing theprevious evening, that such proficiency in music would be regarded assomething very unusual in a sewing-girl, and might occasion remark. 

Her only object had been to oblige Kitty McKenzie and avoid dancing withthe guests. 

"I had a relative who gave me lessons for a while, " she said, in reply toMrs. Montague's query. 

"For a while!" repeated that lady, who had not been unobservant of theflush. "You finger the piano as if you had been accustomed to diligentpractice all your life, and you must have had the best of instruction, too. "

"I am very fond of music, and it was never any task to me to practice, "Mona remarked. Then she added, to change the topic: "Shall I baste thisruffle in the full width, or shall I set it down a trifle?"

Mrs. Montague smiled at the tact of her pretty companion, in thusattempting to draw her attention to her own affairs. 

A good many things had convinced her of late that her seamstress had notbeen reared in poverty, and certain suspicions, that had startled herwhen she first saw her, were beginning to force themselves again uponher. 

"You can set it down a trifle, " she replied; then she asked, persistentlyreturning to the previous question: "Why do you not give music lessons, since you play so well, instead of sewing for your living? I shouldsuppose it would be a much more congenial occupation. "

"There are so many music teachers, and one needs a reputation in order toobtain pupils; besides, people would doubtless regard me as too young tohave had much experience in teaching. There, I have finished this--isthere anything else I can do for you?" and Mona laid the dress she hadbeen at work upon on a chair, and stood awaiting further orders. 

"Yes; the buckle on this slipper needs to be more securely fastened. Itis true that there are legions of music teachers. Was this relative ofyours a teacher?"

"Oh, no; he simply bore the expense of my instruction. "

"I suppose he cannot be living, or you would not be sewing for me, " Mrs. Montague remarked, with another searching glance. 

"No, " was the brief reply, and hot tears rushed to Mona's eyes, blindingher so that she could hardly see where to put her needle. 

She then made some remark to the effect that she needed some strongersilk, and left the room to hide the grief which she found so hard tocontrol. 

"Aha! this relative must be the friend for whom she is in mourning--hecannot have been dead very long, for the girl is unable to speak of himwithout tears, " muttered Mrs. Montague, thoughtfully, a heavy frownsettling on her brow. "There is some mystery about her which I am boundto ferret out; she is exceedingly reticent about herself--I wonder if mysuspicions can be correct?" she continued, her face settling into hard, revengeful lines. "She certainly looks enough like that girl to be herchild. If I were sure, I would not spare her; I would crush her, for thehate that I bore her mother, notwithstanding she is so useful to me. Ha, ha!" and the laugh was exceedingly bitter, "it would seem like the ironyof fate to have her child thrown thus into my power. But if she is MonaMontague why does she call herself Ruth Richards? what can be her object?Can it be possible, " she added, with a startled look, "that she has beentold her history, and she has engaged herself to me with the purpose oftrying to obtain the proofs of it? Is she deep enough for that? or hasshe been advised to adopt such a course? She seems to be very frank andinnocent, intent only upon doing her work well and pleasing me. Yet, ifshe should get hold of any of those proofs, she could make a great dealof trouble for me. I believe I shall have to destroy them, although Ialways feel as if a ghost were haunting me whenever I touch them. I shallnever be satisfied until I learn Ruth's history. I'll attack her aboutthe Palmers; if she is Mona Montague--the girl that Ray Palmer loves--shecertainly will betray herself if I take her unawares; although she didnot appear to know Mr. Palmer, last evening. "

Mona returned at this moment, and Mrs. Montague's musings were cut short. 

The young girl had recovered her self-control, and was as calm andcollected as usual; even more so, for she had told herself that shemust be more on her guard or she would betray her identity. 

Mrs. Montague appeared to have forgotten all about their recentconversation, and chatted sociably about various topics for a while. But suddenly she asked:

"Did you observe the new arrival last night, Ruth?"

"Do you mean that portly gentleman, who is slightly bald, and with whomyou went out for refreshments?" Mona inquired, lifting a frank, inquiringlook to her companion, though her heart beat fast at this reference toRay's father. 

"Yes; he is very fine-looking, don't you think so?"

"Perhaps so--rather, " replied Mona, reflectively. 

"That is 'rather' doubtful praise, I am afraid, " observed Mrs. Montague, with a light laugh. "I think he is a very handsome old gentleman, and heis certainly a decidedly entertaining companion. You know who he is, Isuppose. "

"I do not think that I heard anybody address him by name while I was inthe drawing-room; of course; I was not introduced to any one, " Monaevasively answered. 

"His name is Palmer, " Mrs. Montague remarked, as she bent a searchinglook upon the young girl. 

But Mona had herself well in hand now, and she made no sign that the namewas a familiar one to her. 

"He has a son who is strikingly good looking, too, " Mrs. Montaguecontinued. "I met them both at a reception in New York a little whileago, and was greatly attracted to them, though just now the young manis rather unhappy--in fact, he is wearing the willow for some girl whomhe imagines he loves. "

Mrs. Montague paused to note the effect of this conversation, but Monahad finished fastening the buckle on the slipper, and quietly taken upsome other work, though her pulses were beating like trip-hammers. 

"It seems, " the woman resumed, her keen eyes never leaving the fair faceopposite to her, "that he has long been very fond of a girl whose surnameis the same as mine--a Miss Mona Montague. She was a niece of thatwealthy Mr. Dinsmore, who died so suddenly in New York a short time ago. "

It seemed to Mona that her heart must leap from her bosom as she listenedto this reference to herself; but, with every appearance of perfectcomposure, she measured off some ribbon that she was making into bows, and severed it with a sharp clip of her scissors. 

"Perhaps you do not know whom I mean, " said Mrs. Montague, and paused, determined to make the girl speak. 

"Oh, yes, I have heard of him, and I remember reading the notice of hisdeath in a paper, " Mona compelled herself to say, without betrayinganything of the pain which smote her heart in recurring thus to her greatloss. 

Mrs. Montague frowned. 

She was not progressing as well as she could have wished in her "pumping"operation; but she meant to probe the matter as far as she dared. 

"Well, " she went on, "this niece was supposed by everybody to be Mr. Dinsmore's heiress; but a discarded wife suddenly made her appearance, after his death, and claimed the whole of his property, and the girl wasleft without a penny. She must have been terribly cut up about it, forshe suddenly disappeared, and cannot be found, and it is this that has soupset young Palmer. He had not committed himself, his father informed me, but was just on the point of declaring his love when Mr. Dinsmore died;and the girl, evidently crushed by her loss, has hidden herself sosecurely that no one can find her. "

It was fortunate for Mona that her recent troubles had taught hersomething of self-control, or she must have betrayed herself at thispoint. 

She realized that Mrs. Montague must have a purpose in relating all thisto her, and feared it was to verify some suspicion regarding herself. 

She now believed that the woman must know all her mother's history, andcertain facts regarding her own birth, which she felt that Mr. Dinsmorehad, for some reason, withheld from her. This conviction had grown uponher ever since she had been a member of her family, and she hoped, bysome means, if she remained long enough with her, to learn the truth. Still she feared that if Mrs. Montague should discover that she was herhusband's daughter she might be so prejudiced against her she would atonce dismiss her from her employ, and she would then lose her only chanceto solve the questions that puzzled her. But she found it very hard toconceal the great and sudden joy that went thrilling through her as shelistened to these facts regarding Ray Palmer's affection for and hisloyalty to her. 

He had not been unworthy and faithless, as she had imagined; there hadbeen some good reason why he had not come to her during the early days ofher trouble. He might have been called suddenly away from New York onbusiness and not been able to return until her home was broken up; andnow he was grieving--"wearing the willow, " as Mrs. Montague expressedit--because he could not find her. He loved her! he had been upon thepoint of telling her so, and this blissful knowledge made the world seemsuddenly bright again to the hitherto depressed and grieving girl. 

But it would never do to betray anything of this, for then Mrs. Montaguewould know at once that _she_ was Mona Montague; so she made no sign thatshe was any more interested in this little romance regarding Ray Palmer'slove, than she would have been in that of any stranger. She even forcedherself to ignore him altogether, and ask, in a matter-of-fact way:

"Is it not strange, if Mr. Dinsmore had a wife living, that he did notmake some provision for his niece, by will?"

"The girl _isn't_ Mona Montague after all, or she never would have askedsuch a question with that innocent air, " said Mrs. Montague to herself, with some disappointment; "the strange resemblance must be only acoincidence, striking though it is. But I would really like to know whereWalter Dinsmore's niece is. I feel as if I had an enemy in ambush all thetime, for she would have it in her power to do me a great deal of harm ifshe could prove her identity. I am half sorry that Ruth doesn't prove tobe she, for having her here, under my eye, I could manage her capitally. "

"Why, the papers discussed all that at the time, " she remarked aloud, with some surprise. "There was considerable excitement over the affair, and sympathy was very strong for the niece. Didn't you read about it?"

"No, I was very much engaged just then, and I did not read any account ofit. There, these bows are ready, and I will sew them to the dress, " Monaconcluded, rising to get the garment, but trembling with nervousexcitement in every limb. 

"Ah!" she added, glancing at her fingers, three of which were stainedwith blood. "I have pricked myself with my needle; I hope I have notsoiled the ribbon. No, fortunately, I have not, " as she carefullyexamined it, "but I will step into the bath-room to wash my hands. I willnot be long, " and she immediately left the room again. She had purposelyrun the needle into her delicate flesh to obtain this respite, for shefelt as if she could no longer endure the trying conversation. 

"Oh, how she has tortured me!" she sobbed, as she swung the door to afterher, and dashed from her eyes the tears which she could no longerrestrain. "I could not bear it another moment, and I must not give way, even now, or she will see that I am unnerved, but I cannot be whollywretched now that I know that _Ray loves me_!"

A vivid blush mounted to her brow as she whispered the sweet words, andshe dashed the cold water over her burning cheeks to cool them. 

"Ah!" she continued; "I judged him wrongfully, and I am sorry. It will beall right if we can but meet again. It must be true that he loved me; hemust have confessed it, or his father would not have told Mrs. Montagueso. "

She hastily dried her face, and hands, then composing herself, returnedto Mrs. Montague's room to find her with her dress on and looking veryfair and lovely in the delicately tinted blue cashmere, with the softruching in the neck and sleeves and the shining satin bows at her waist. 

The woman glanced sharply at Mona as she entered, but, for all that shecould see, the sweet face was as serene as if she were intent only uponher duties as waiting-maid, instead of thrilling with joy over theknowledge of being beloved by one whom, until that hour, she had believedlost to her. 

"I will submit her to one more test, and if she can stand it I shall besatisfied, " she said to herself, as she fastened a beautiful pin at herthroat, and then turned smilingly to Mona, but with the most innocentair in the world. 

"Am I all right, Ruth? Is the dress becoming?" she asked. 

"Exceedingly, " Mona returned; "the color is just suited to you. "

"Thank you, I wonder if Mr. Palmer will also think so. Do you know, " witha conscious laugh and forced blush, but with a covert glance at the girl, "I am becoming very much interested in that gentleman. I like the son, too, but chiefly for his father's sake. By the way, young Mr. Palmer isto be here for the ball on Monday evening; at least his father is goingto telegraph him to come. "

"Is he?" said Mona, absently, while she appeared to be engrossed withsomething which she had suddenly discovered about the new morning robe. But the statement that Ray was coming to Hazeldean had given her aninward start that made every nerve in her body bound as if an electriccurrent had been applied to them. "This skirt does not seem to hang justright, " she added, dropping upon her knees, as if to ascertain the cause. "Ah! it was only caught up--it is all right now. "

She smoothed the folds into place and arose, while, the breakfast-bellringing at that moment, Mrs. Montague passed from the room, very nearlyif not quite satisfied that Ruth Richards was an entirely differentperson from Mona Montague. 

Poor over-wrought Mona, however, fled into her own chamber, and lockedthe door the moment she was alone. 

She sank into the nearest chair, buried her face in her hands, and fellto sobbing nervously. 

"How can I bear it?" she murmured. "It is perfectly dreadful to have tolive such a life of deception. I never would have been guilty of it if Ihad not been caught just as I was; but I could not give her my real name, for she would have known at once who I am; and I do so want to find outjust why my father deserted my mother, and what there was between himand Uncle Walter that was so terrible. Perhaps I never shall, but I meanto stay with her for a while and try. She is a strange woman, " the younggirl went on, musingly. "Sometimes I think she is kind and good, thenagain she seems like a designing and unprincipled person. Can it bepossible that she is contemplating an alliance with Mr. Palmer? Shecertainly received his attentions last evening with every appearance ofpleasure, and he seemed to be equally delighted with her society. Iwonder if Ray will like it? Somehow the thought of it is not agreeableto me, if--if--"

A vivid blush suffused Mona's cheeks as she reached this point in hersoliloquy, as if she was overcome at having allowed her thoughts to runaway with her to such an extent. 

"So Ray is coming to Hazeldean for the ball on Monday evening, " shecontinued, after a while. "Shall I see him? Yes, I shall try to, " with anair of resolution. "If he loves me as well as I love him, why should anyfoolish sensitiveness prevent my allowing him to make it manifest, if hewishes? I do not believe I have any right to ruin both our lives byhiding myself from him. I will prove him in this way; but I must see himalone, so that no one will know that I am Mona Montague, instead of RuthRichards, the sewing-girl. What if _he_ should ignore me?" she added, with sudden fear and growing very white; then, with renewed confidence:"He will not; if he has been noble enough to confess his feelings tohis father, he will not hide them from me. He is noble and true, andI will not doubt him. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

"MY DARLING, I LOVE YOU!"

Mr. Palmer, true to his promise to the fair young guests at Hazeldean, telegraphed to Ray the next morning requesting him to come up for theball on Monday. Later in the day he received a reply from the young manstating that he would do so, although he did not mention the hour when heshould arrive. 

Thursday, Friday, and Saturday were gay and busy days, for the ball wasto be a grand affair, and everybody was anxious to do all possible honorto the occasion and made preparations accordingly. 

Mrs. Montague, however, was not so busy but that she managed to spend agood deal of her time with Mr. Palmer, who seemed to renew his youth inher presence, and was so gallant and attentive that the young people, whowere exceedingly interested in watching the progress of this middle-agedromance, were kept in a constant flutter of amused excitement. Mr. Wellington and his wife were also considerably diverted by the affair. 

"I'm afraid Palmer is a 'gone goose, '" the gentleman laughingly remarkedto his spouse, after they had retired to their room on Saturday evening. 

"It looks like it, " the lady returned; "and really, " she added, with someimpatience, "there is something almost ridiculous to me in seeing an oldman like him dancing attendance upon a gay young widow like Mrs. Montague. "

"_Young!_ How old do you imagine her to be?" inquired Mr. Wellington. 

"She cannot be much over thirty, and she dresses in a way to make herlook even younger than that, " the lady responded. "At all events, sheseems like a mere girl beside portly, bald-headed Mr. Palmer, and I amafraid that he will regret it if he allows himself to become entangledin her net. "

"I see that you are not in favor of the match, " replied Mr. Wellington, much amused over his wife's earnestness. 

"No, Will; I confess I am not, " she said, gravely. "I knew Amos Palmer'sfirst wife, and she was a devoted, care-taking, conscientious woman, never sparing herself when she could add to the comfort and happiness ofher family. But this woman is entirely different--she cares very littlefor anything but society. I admit she is very delightful company--acharming person to have in the house at such a time as this; but I doubther ability to make Mr. Palmer happy, and I never would have believedthat he could have had his head so thoroughly turned by any woman. Ithought he was bound up in making money, to leave to that handsome sonof his. "

"Well, it appears that Cupid can make fools of the best of us, " Mr. Wellington returned, with a roguish glance at his wife; "and we do notdiscover the fact until the noose is irrevocably knotted about our necks. By the way, speaking of accumulating money makes me remember that Palmerhad a telegram to-day, telling him that the detective whom he employed onthat affair of the diamonds thinks that he is on the track of the thiefat last. "

"Is that so?" said Mrs. Wellington, with surprise. "Do you imagine thathe will ever recover the stones?"

"He may--some of the larger ones, for they had been submitted to anexpert; but I doubt if he ever sees many of them again, " her husbandreplied. 

 * * * * *

During these last two days Mona had been kept steadily employed inperforming various duties for Mrs. Montague. 

That lady's costume for the ball was to be of great elegance and beauty. 

The material was a rich garnet velvet, brocaded in white and gold, withpoint-lace garniture. 

It had not been quite finished before they left New York, and Mona foundno little difficulty in setting the many last stitches, for she had hadbut small experience in finishing garments of any kind, and Mrs. Montaguewas very particular. 

It was quite late in the evening when she completed her task, and, with asigh of relief, laid the beautiful costume upon the bed, ready for Mrs. Montague's inspection when she should come up stairs for the night. 

There was something of regret also mingled with her feeling that she, too, could not join the festivities on Monday evening. She had dearlyloved society during the little while she had mingled with it, and thepleasurable excitement of the last few days, which kept all the youngladies in a constant flutter, made her long to be one among them. 

It was about half-past two when Mrs. Montague made her appearance, looking flushed and elated, for she had just parted from Mr. Palmer, whohad begged her to attend service at the village church with him the nextmorning. The request was so impressively expressed that she imagined herconquest was nearly complete, and she was therefore in high spirits. 

She caught sight of her ball-dress immediately upon entering the room. 

"How lovely it is, Ruth, " she remarked, "and you have arranged the lacevery tastefully upon the corsage. I believe it will be exceedinglybecoming. I only wish I could see myself as others will see me onMonday night, and know just how I am going to look. Ruth, " she added, suddenly, as if inspired with a bright idea, "you are about my height;suppose you put on the dress and let me get just the effect; that is, ifyou are not too tired and do not mind being made a show figure, here allby ourselves. "

Mona smiled slightly over the woman's vanity, but she was willing tooblige, and so signified her readiness to put the dress on, and in lessthan ten minutes she had metamorphosed herself from the quiet, retiringsewing-girl into a brilliant society belle. 

The dress was a trifle loose for her, yet it was not a bad fit, while herpure neck and arms were as white as the costly lace, which fell in softfolds over them. 

Mrs. Montague marveled at the exquisite fairness of her skin, and toldherself that she had never realized, until that moment, how verybeautiful her young seamstress was. 

"You must put everything on, even to the jewels that I shall wear, " shesaid, bringing a large case from one of her trunks, and exhibiting analmost childish eagerness to get the full effect of her costume. 

She opened the case, and taking a diamond necklace of great beauty andvalue from it, clasped it about the girl's milk-white neck. Then shefastened some fine solitaires in her small ears; three or four pins, eachhaving a blazing stone for its head, were tucked amid the glossy braidsof her hair, and two glittering snakes were wound about her beautifullyrounded arms. 

"Now for the fan, and you will be complete, " cried Mrs. Montague, as shebrought an exquisite affair composed of white ostrich tips, with a birdof Paradise nestling in its center, and handed it to Mona. 

Then she stood off to admire the _tout ensemble_, and just at that momentthere came a tap upon her door. 

She went immediately to open it, and found her nephew standing outside. 

"I've come for the money, Aunt Margie, " he said. "I thought I'd betterhave it to-night, since I am going to town on the early train, and didnot like to disturb you in the morning. "

"Very well, I will get it for you, and I hope that Madame Millaise willhave the mantle ready for you, for I must have it on Monday evening tothrow over my shoulders after dancing, " Mrs. Montague responded, as sheturned back to get her purse. 

She was on the point of closing the door, for she did not care to haveher nephew know what was going on within the room. But Mr. Louis Hamblinwas very keen. He knew from her manner that something unusual wasoccurring, and so he boldly pushed on after her, and entered the chamberbefore she was aware of his intention. 

He stopped suddenly, however, the moment he had crossed the threshold, stricken with astonishment, as his glance rested upon Mona. 

He had known that the girl was unusually lovely, but he was not quiteprepared to see such a vision of beauty as now greeted his eyes. 

"Jove! Aunt Marg, isn't she a stunner?" he cried, under his breath. "Youwon't see one at the ball Monday night that can hold a candle to her!"

Mona had flushed a vivid scarlet when he had so unceremoniously forcedhis way into the room; but at his bold compliment she turned haughtilyaway from his gaze with the air of an offended queen. 

Her bearing, though full of scorn, was replete with grace and dignity, while the voluminous train of the rich dress made her slender form seemeven taller and more regal than it really was. 

Mrs. Montague had been no less impressed with the young girl's beauty, but it would have affected her no more than that of a wax figure wouldhave done had no one else been present to remark it. Now, however, atLouis' high praise, a feeling of envy sprang up in her heart, and a frownof annoyance gathered on her brow. 

"I wish you would go out, Louis, " she said, sharply. "It is very rude ofyou to thus force yourself into my room. "

"Come now, Aunt Marg, that's a good one, when all my life I have been inthe habit of running in and out of your room, to do your bidding like alackey, " the young man retorted, mockingly. "But really this is anunexpected treat, " he added, wickedly. "Miss Richards, in these finetogs, is the most beautiful woman that I have ever seen. And--'pon myword, Aunt Marg, I really believe she looks like--"

"Louis!" came in a sharp, warning cry from Mrs. Montague's lips, as shewheeled around upon him, her blazing eyes having a dangerous gleam inthem. 

"Like--a _picture_ that I have seen somewhere, " he quietly finished, butwith a meaning smile and intonation. "How you do snap a fellow up, AuntMargie! Here, give me the money, and I will clear out before anotherblast!"

Mrs. Montague handed him a roll of bills, telling him in an icy tone tobe sure and get back as early as possible on Monday; and then, as he beata retreat before her offended looks, she sharply shut the door upon him. 

"Take off that dress!" she abruptly commanded of Mona. 

Deeply wounded by her ungracious tone, as well as indignant at what hadjust occurred, the fair girl quickly divested herself of the costlyapparel, and then, wishing the woman a quiet good-night, withdrew toher own room. 

But nothing could make her very unhappy with the glad refrain that wascontinually ringing in her heart:

"Ray is coming! I shall see him!" she kept saying over and over. Allother emotions were swallowed up in the joy of this, and she was soonsleeping the sweet, restful sleep of youth and dreaming of the one sheloved. 

But Mrs. Montague was terribly excited when she found herself alone. 

"I should never have thought of it if Louis had not spoken, I was soabsorbed in the costume, " she muttered, as she stood in the middle of thefloor and tried to compose herself. "I could almost swear that she wasMona come back to life. She looked almost exactly as she did that nightin Paris--shall I ever forget it?--when I _told_ her, and she drewherself up in that proud way; and _she_ had a garnet dress on, too. She _does_ look wonderfully like that picture! Louis was quick to see it, and I will have it destroyed when I return to New York. I can't imaginewhy I have kept it all these years. Ugh! I feel almost as if I had seen aghost. "

She shook herself, as if to dispel these uncanny thoughts, and thendisrobing, retired to rest. 

Sunday was a lovely day--more mild and spring-like even than the previousones had been. 

Some of the guests at Hazeldean went to Rhinebeck to attend the morningservice, Mr. Palmer and Mrs. Montague among the number; but most of themremained within doors until evening, when Mr. Wellington, their host, requested, as a favor, that all would attend a special service at one ofthe village churches, where a college friend was to preach, and he wishedto give him as large an audience as possible. He also hinted, with agleam of mischief in his eyes, that they would do well to take theirpocket-books along, as a collection would be taken to help to pay for anew organ which the society had just purchased. 

It was a glorious evening, and, everybody appearing to partake of theenthusiasm of the host, the whole party set out to walk to the church. 

No one thought of asking Mona to go, and thus the young girl was leftentirely alone in the house, except for the servants, who were bythemselves in the basement. 

She was very lonely, and felt both sad and depressed, as she saw theparty pass out of sight down the avenue, and for a moment she was temptedto rebel against her hard lot, and the neglect of others, who might atleast have remembered that she had a soul to be benefited by Sabbathservices as well as they. 

She even shed a few tears of regret, for she was young and buoyant, andwould dearly have loved to join that gay company of youths and maidens, if she could have done so as an equal. 

But after a few moments she bravely wiped away the crystal drops, saying:

"I will not grieve; I will not give up to _anything_ until I have seenRay. If _he_ is true, the world will be bright, though everybody elsegives me the cold shoulder--and he will be here to-morrow. But I _am_a trifle lonely, all by myself in this great house. I believe I will rundown to the music-room and play for a little while. No one is here to bedisturbed by it, and I shall not be afraid of critics. "

So she went slowly down the dimly lighted stairs to a room on the rightof the hall, where, without even turning up the gas, she seated herselfat the piano. 

The "dim religious light" was rather pleasant to her, in her tender mood, and she could see well enough for her purpose. 

She ran her skilled fingers lightly over the keys of the sweet-tonedinstrument, and almost immediately her whole soul began to wake up to therich harmony which she evoked. 

She played a few selections from Beethoven's "Songs Without Words, " sanga ballad or two, and was just upon the point of getting up to look for abook of Sabbath hymns, when a step behind her caused her to turn toascertain who was intruding upon her solitude. 

She saw standing in the doorway leading from the hall, a tall form cladin a long overcoat and holding his hat in his hand. 

She could not distinguish his features, but courteously arose to goforward to see who the stranger was, when he spoke, and his tonesthrilled her instantly to the very center of her being. 

"Pardon me, " he began. "I rang the bell, but no one answered it, and, thedoor being ajar, I ventured to enter. Can you tell me--Ah!--_Mona_!"

The speaker had also advanced into the room as he spoke, but the lightwas too dim for him to recognize its occupant until he reached her side, although she had known him the instant he spoke. 

His start and exclamation of surprise, the glad, almost exultant tone ashe uttered her name, told the fair girl all she needed to know to provethat Ray Palmer was loyal to her, in spite of all the reverses offortune, of friends, of position, and to prove him the noble charactershe had always believed him to be. 

He stretched forth an eager hand, and grasped hers with a fervor whichtold her how deeply he was moved to find her, even before his wordsconfirmed it. 

"Oh! I _have_ not made a mistake, have I?" he asked, bending hisluminous face closer to hers, eager to read a welcome there. "I _have_found you--_at last_? If you knew--if I could tell you--But first tell_me_ that you are glad to see me, " he concluded, somewhat incoherently. 

Mona's hand lay unresisting in his clasp, and a feeling of restful peacefilled her heart, as she lifted her glad face to him. 

"No, you have made no mistake--it is I, Mona Montague, and I amvery"--with a little sob of joy, which she could not control--"very gladto see you again, Mr. Palmer. "

"My darling!" he said, made bold by her look, her tone, but more by thelittle sob, which his own heart told him how to interpret. "Tell me yetmore--I cannot wait--I have been so hungry for the sight of your dearface, for the sound of your voice, and I thought that I had lost you. I love you, Mona, with all my heart and strength, and this unexpectedmeeting has so overcome me that the truth must be told. Are you still'glad'?--will you make _me_ glad by telling me so?"

"But--Mr. Palmer--" Mona began, tremulously, hardly able to credit herears, hardly able to believe that this great and almost overwhelming joywas a reality, and not some illusive dream. "I am afraid you forget--"

"What have I forgotten?" he gently asked, but without releasing her hand. 

"That my uncle is gone. I have no home, friends, position! Do you know--"

"I know that you are Mona Montague--that I _love_ you, and that I have_found_ you, " he interrupted, his own voice quivering with repressedemotion, his strong frame trembling with eager longing, mingled withsomething of fear that his suit might be rejected. 

"Then I _am_ glad, " breathed Mona, and the next moment she was foldedclose to Raymond Palmer's manly bosom, where she could feel the beatingof the strong, true, loyal heart of her lover while with his lips pressedupon her silken hair he murmured fond words which betrayed how deep andabsorbing his affection was for her--how he had longed for her and howbitterly he had suffered because he could not find her. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

MONA IS JOYFULLY SURPRISED. 

"Then you do love me, Mona?" Ray whispered, fondly, after a moment or twoof happy silence. "I must hear you say it even though you have tacitlyconfessed it and my heart exults in the knowledge. I cannot be quitesatisfied until I have the blessed confirmation from your own lips. "

"You certainly can have no reason to doubt it after such a betrayal asthis, " Mona tried to say playfully, to shield her embarrassment, as shelifted her flushed face from its resting-place, and shot a glad, brightlook into his eyes. Then she added in a grave though scarcely audiblevoice: "Yes I _do_ love you with all my heart!"

The young man smiled; then with his arm still infolding her he led herbeneath the chandelier and turned on a full blaze of light. 

"I must read the glad story in your eyes, " he said, tenderly, as he bentto look into them. "I must see it shining in your face. Ah, love, howbeautiful you are still! And yet there is a sad droop to these lips"--andhe touched them softly with his own--"that pains me; there is a heavinessabout these eyes which tells of trial and sorrow. My darling, you haveneeded comfort and sympathy, while I was bound hand and foot, and couldnot come to you. What did you think of me, dear? But you knew, ofcourse. "

"I knew--I hoped there was some good reason, " faltered Mona, withdowncast eyes. 

"You 'hoped!' Then you _did_ think--you _feared_ that I, like otherfalse friends, had turned the cold shoulder on you in your trouble?" hereturned, a sorrowful reproach in his tone. "Surely you have known aboutthe stolen diamonds?"

"Yes, I knew that your father had been robbed. "

"And about my having been kidnapped also--the papers were full of thestory. "

Mona looked up, astonished. 

"Kidnapped!" she exclaimed. "No; this is the first that I have heard ofthat. "

"Where have you been that you have not seen the papers?" Ray inquired, wonderingly. 

"As you doubtless know, " Mona replied, "Uncle Walter died very suddenlythe day after I attended the opera with you, and for a fortnightafterward I was so overcome with grief and--other troubles, that Iscarcely looked at a paper. After that, one day, I saw a brief itemreferring to the robbery, and it is only since I came here that I hadeven a hint that you had been ill. "

"Come, then, dear, and let me tell you about it, and then I am sure youwill absolve me from all willful neglect, " Ray said, as he led her to a_tête-à-tête_ and seated himself beside her. "But first tell me, " headded, "how I happen to find you here. Are you one of the guests?"

"No, " Mona said, blushing slightly, "You know, of course, that I losthome and everything else when I lost Uncle Walter, and now I am simplyacting as seamstress and waiting maid to a Mrs. Montague, who is a guesthere. "

"Ah!" exclaimed the young man, with a start, as he remembered how Mrs. Montague had denied all knowledge of Mona. "I have met the lady--is shea relative of yours?"

"No; at least, I never saw her until I entered her house to serve her. "

"My poor child! to think that you should have to go out to do such work, "said Ray, with tender regret. "But of course, as you say, I canunderstand all about it, for that, too, was in the papers; but it wasvery heartless, very cruel in that Mrs. Dinsmore not to make you anyallowance, when she could not fail to know that your uncle wished you toinherit his property. She must be a very obnoxious sort of person, isn'tshe?"

"I do not know, " said Mona, with a sigh; "I have never seen her--atleast, not since I was a child, and too young to remember anything abouther. "

"Do you mean that you did not meet her during the contest for Mr. Dinsmore's fortune?" questioned Ray in surprise. 

"No, she did not appear at all personally; all her business wastransacted through her lawyer, as mine was through Mr. Graves, " Monaanswered. 

"Well, it was an inhuman thing for her to do, to take everything andleave you penniless, and obliged to earn your own living. But that is allover now, " the young man said, looking fondly into the fair face besidehim. "Isn't it, darling? You have told me that you love me, but you havenot yet promised me anything. You are going to be my wife, are you not, Mona?"

"I hope so--if you wish--some time, " she answered, naively, yet withcrimson cheeks and downcast eyes. 

He laughed out gladly as he again embraced her. 

"'Some time, if I wish, '" he repeated. "Well, I do wish, and the sometime must be very soon, too. Ah, my sweet, brown-eyed girlie! how happyI am at this moment! I did not dream that I was to find such a wealth ofjoy when I came hither at my father's earnest request. I was grieving sofor you I had no heart for the gayeties which I knew I should find here;now, however, I shall not find it difficult to be as gay as any one. Howglad I am, too, that I came to-night to find you here alone. My fatherdoes not expect me until to-morrow; but I had a matter of importance totalk over with him, so ran up on the evening train. But I am forgettingthat I have a thrilling story to tell you. "

He then related all that had occurred in connection with the bold diamondrobbery and his imprisonment and subsequent illness in DoctorWesselhoff's retreat for nervous patients, while Mona listened withwonder-wide eyes and a paling cheek, as she realized the danger throughwhich her lover had passed. 

"What an audacious scheme!" she exclaimed, when he concluded. "How couldany woman dare to plan, much less put it into execution! No wonder thatyou were ill, and you must have been very sick, for you are still thinand pale, " Mona said, regarding him anxiously. 

"I shall now soon outgrow that, " Ray responded, smiling. "It was chieflyanxiety and unhappiness on your account that kept me thin and pale. Youwill see how quickly I shall recover my normal condition now that I havefound you and know that you are all my own. Now tell me all about yourown troubles, my darling. Do you know, it seems an age to me since weparted that night at your uncle's door, and you gave me permission tocall upon you? My intention then was to seek an interview with Mr. Dinsmore within a day or two, tell him of my love for you, and ask hispermission to address you. But, even had no misfortune overtaken me, Icould not have done so, since he was stricken that very night; but atleast I could have come to you with words of sympathy. "

Mona then gave him a detailed account of all that had happened duringthose dark days, when her only friend lay dead and she felt as if all theworld had forsaken her. 

"Mona, " the young man gravely said, when she had finished her story, "Ishall tell my father to-night of this interview--he already knows that Ilove you--and ask his sanction to our immediate marriage, for I cannothave you remain here among my friends and acquaintances another day inthe capacity of a seamstress or waiting-maid. "

"But, Ray--" Mona began, then she stopped short, blushing rosily athaving thus involuntarily called him by his Christian name. She hadalways thought of him thus, and it passed her lips before she was awareof it. 

He laughed out, amused at her confusion. 

"There, dear, you have broken the ice almost without knowing it, " hesaid; "now we shall get on nicely if you do not let it freeze over again;but what were you going to say?"

"I was going to ask you not to speak of--of our relations to each otherto any one just yet, " Mona returned, with some embarrassment. 

"Why not?" Ray demanded, astonished, and looking troubled by the request. 

"There are reasons why I must remain for a while longer with Mrs. Montague, " said the young girl. 

"Not in the capacity of waiting-maid, " Ray asserted, decidedly; "I cannotallow that. "

"Indeed I must, Ray, " Mona persisted, but with an appealing note in hervoice; "and I will tell you why. I told you that Mrs. Montague was norelative; she is not really, and yet--she was my father's second wife. "

"Mona! you astonish me, " cried her lover, regarding her wonderingly. 

"It is true, and there is some mystery connected with my own mother andmy early history which I am exceedingly anxious to learn. Uncle Waltertold me something of it only the day before he died; but I am very surethat he kept back certain portions of the story which I ought to know, and which he was also anxious to tell me when he was dying, and couldnot. I have no means even of proving my identity; if I had, I supposethat I could claim some of this wealth of which Mrs. Montague appears tohave abundance, and I am sure that she has some proof in her possession. I want to get it, and that is why I am anxious to remain with her alittle longer. Let me tell you everything, " Mona went on, hurriedly, asRay seemed about to utter another protest to her wish. "As I understandthe story, my father was dependent upon a rich aunt who wished him tomarry the present Mrs. Montague; but he, being in love with my mother, was opposed to so doing, although he was anxious to secure the fortune. As he was about to start on a European tour he married my mother and tookher with him, none of his friends apparently suspecting the union. 

"Now comes a part of the story which I cannot understand. They traveledfor several months; but, while in Paris, my father suddenly disappeared, and my mother, believing herself deserted, in her pride and humiliation, immediately left the city, doubtless with the intention of returning toAmerica. She was taken ill in London, however, and there, a few monthslater, I was born, and she died only a few hours afterward. Uncle Walterheard of her sad condition, and hastened to her, but was three days toolate, and found only a poor weak infant upon whom to expend his love andcare. It seems very strange to me that she did not write to him at thetime she fled from Paris; but I suppose, since she had eloped with andbeen secretly married to my father, she was too proud and sensitive toappeal to any one. Later, my father married this Miss Barton to pleasehis aunt and secure the fortune which he so much desired. I do not knowanything about his after-life. I questioned Uncle Walter, but he wouldnot talk about him--the most that he would tell me was that he was dead, but how, or when he died, I could never learn, and I do not know as thereeven exists any proof of his legal marriage with my mother, although myuncle confidentially asserted that she was his lawful wife. I believe, however, that such proofs do exist and that they are in Mrs. Montague'spossession. "

Mona then proceeded to relate how she had happened to secure the positionshe now occupied. 

"It seems very strange, " she said, "that fate should have thrown me thusinto her home, and somehow I have a suspicion that she must have beenconcerned in the great wrong done my mother--that it was because of herinfluence that my father never owned nor provided for me. And now, " Monacontinued, flushing a deep crimson, "I am obliged to confess something ofwhich I am somewhat ashamed. When I found myself in Mrs. Montague's home, and had resolved to remain, I knew that she would instantly suspect myidentity if I should give her my true name. This, of course, I did notwish her to do, and so when she asked me what she should call me, I toldher 'Ruth Richards, ' The name Ruth really belongs to me, but Richards isassumed. Now, Ray, you can understand why I do not wish to have Mrs. Montague undeceived regarding my identity, as she must be if you insistupon at once proclaiming our relations. I am very strongly impressed thatshe knows the secret of my father's desertion of my mother, and also thatshe could prove, if she would, that I am the child of their legalmarriage. "

Ray Palmer had grown very grave while listening to Mona's story, and whenshe spoke of her assumed name it was evident, from the frown on his brow, that he did not approve of having her hide herself from the world in anysuch way. 

"Why not ask her outright, then?" inquired this straightforward youngman, as the young girl concluded. 

"That would never do at all, " said Mona. "Uncle Walter told me that shehated my mother, and me a hundred-fold on her account, and she would notbe very likely to put any proofs into my hands, especially when theywould be liable to be very detrimental to her own interests. "

"True, I did not think of that, " returned Ray, thoughtfully. "But how doyou expect to obtain possession of these proofs, even if she has them, and how long must I wait for you?" he gloomily added. 

"I do not know, Ray, " she answered, with a sigh. "I do not see my wayvery clearly. I keep hoping, and something seems to hold me to thisposition in spite of myself. Let me remain three or six months longer;then if I do not succeed--"

"I will concede three months, but no more, " Ray interposed, decidedly;then added: "What does it matter whether you know all this history ornot? It cannot be anything of vital importance, or that will affect yourfuture in any way. I wish you would let me speak to my father andannounce our engagement at once, my darling. "

"Nay, please, Ray, let me have my way in this, " Mona pleaded, withcrimson cheeks. She could not tell him that she felt sensitive aboutbecoming his wife until she could have absolute proof of the legalmarriage of her father and mother. 

He bent down and looked earnestly into her face. 

"Mona, is that the only reason why you wish to wait? You do not shrinkfrom our union from any doubt of your own heart--of your love for me, ormine for you?" he gravely asked. 

"No, indeed, Ray, " and she put out both her hands to him, with aneagerness that entirely reassured him even before she added: "I cannottell you how glad, how restful, how content I am since your comingto-night. I was so lonely and sorrowful, the future looked so dark andcheerless because I feared I had lost you; but now all is bright. "

She dropped her face again upon his breast to hide the blushes thisconfession had called up, and the happy tears also that were droppingfrom her long lashes. 

He gathered her close to his heart, thrilling at her words. 

"Then I will try to be patient for three months, love, " he murmured, "andmeantime I suppose you will have to be Ruth Richards to me as well as toothers. "

"Yes, it will not do to have my real name known--that will spoil all, "Mona replied, with a sigh, for her truthful soul recoiled with as muchaversion from all deception as he possibly could do. 

"And am I not to see you during all this time?" Ray ruefully asked. 

"Oh, yes; not to see you would be unbearable to me, " Mona respondedquickly. "Can you not manage to have some one introduce me to you as MissRichards while you are here? then neither Mrs. Montague nor any one elsewould think it strange if you should seek me occasionally; only--"

"Only what?" inquired the young man, wondering to see her color sovividly and appear so embarrassed. 

"Perhaps I should not tell you, " Mona said, with some hesitation, "andyet you must learn the fact sooner or later from some other sources; butMrs. Montague appears to be growing quite fond of your father, who isvery attentive to her, and she might not exactly like--"

"She might not like to have the son of the man for whom she is anglingto pay attention to her seamstress, is what you were going to say?" Rayinterposed, laughing, yet with a look of annoyance sweeping over his fineface. 

"Something like it, perhaps, " Mona responded, flushing again. 

"Well, I do not believe she is going to land her fish, if you will pardonthe slang phrase, " said the young man, confidently. "My father hassuccessfully resisted the allurements of the gentler sex for too manyyears to succumb at this late day; so you and I need give ourselves nouneasiness upon that score. Does he know you as Ruth Richards?"

"Yes, if indeed he knows me at all. I have received no introduction tohim, and I only knew him from hearing Mr. Wellington greet him andinquire regarding the lost diamonds, " Mona explained. Then she added:"Do you expect to recover them, Ray? have you any clew?"

"Yes, we have a slight one, we think, and that is one reason why I amhere to-night. The detective in our employ sent a telegram to my fatheryesterday mentioning the fact, but he thought it best for me to come upto-night and talk the matter over more fully with him, and hurry him backto New York early on Tuesday morning. A woman is being shadowed upon thesuspicion of having committed a bold swindle in Chicago, and Mr. Riderthinks, without any doubt, that she is the same person who so cleverlydid us out of our diamonds. "

"Hark! please, " said Mona, as just then she caught the sound of voices inthe distance, "the party is returning from evening service, and I mustnot be found here with you. "

"I am loath to let you go, my brown-eyed sweetheart, " Ray tenderlyresponded. 

"And I to go, " Mona answered softly, "but it is best that I should; wemust both be judicious for a while--we must not be too exacting when wehave had this great new happiness come to us so unexpectedly, " and shelifted her luminous eyes to him. 

He clasped her to him again. 

"Good-night, my darling, " he said; then with one lingering kiss upon herlips, he let her go, and she stole softly up stairs, with a joyous heartand step, while Ray drew a paper from his pocket, and was apparentlydeeply absorbed in its contents when the party entered the house. 

A good deal of surprise was expressed when his arrival was discovered, and he was accorded a warm welcome by the host and hostess as well as byevery guest. 

CHAPTER XX. 

MR. RIDER MAKES AN ARREST. 

While the festivities were in progress at Hazeldean, some incidents of asomewhat singular character were occurring in New York. 

It will be remembered that Mr. Palmer and his son met Mrs. Montague forthe first time at the reception given by Mrs. Merrill; also that theirattention was attracted to a lady who wore a profusion of unusuallyfine diamonds--a Mrs. Vanderheck. 

We know how Ray was introduced to her, and repeated her name asVander_beck_, with an emphasis on the beck; how she started, changedcolor, and glanced at him curiously as he did so, and seemed strangelyill at ease while conversing with him afterward, and a little laterabruptly took her leave. 

The next day, the young man communicated these suspicious circumstancesto the private detective whom his father had employed to look up hisstolen diamonds, and from that time Mrs. Vanderheck had been under closesurveillance by that shrewd official. 

Mr. Rider was a very energetic man, and, by dint of adroit inquiries andobservations, learned that she was a woman who devoted most of her timeto social life--was very gay, very fond of dress and excitement of everykind. She did not, however, resemble in any way the Mrs. Vanderbeck whohad conducted the robbery of the Palmer diamonds, although, he argued, she might easily enough be an accomplice. 

The detective interviewed Doctor Wesselhoff, who was now as eager as anyone to assist in the discovery of those who so imposed upon him, andobtained a minute description of the other woman who had arranged for RayPalmer to become an inmate of his institution, and he thought thatpossibly by the aid of a clever disguise, Mrs. Vanderheck might havefigured as Mrs. Walton, the pretended mother of the pretended monomaniac. 

Consequently, energetic Mr. Rider had followed close upon her track, bound to discover her real character. 

She resided in a fine brown-stone mansion up town; sported an elegantcarriage and a spanking pair of bays, and, to all appearances, possessedan unlimited bank account. 

She was sometimes attended on her drives by a gentleman, many years olderthan herself, who appeared to be something of an invalid, and who, asfar as the detective could learn, was engaged in no business whatever. 

These latter facts increased his suspicions, for the reason that thewoman who had robbed Mr. Palmer had wished to submit her selections tothe sanction of an invalid husband. 

Disguised as a spruce young coachman, Mr. Rider managed to ingratiatehimself with a pretty, but rather vain young servant-girl in Mrs. Vanderheck's employ, and by means of well-turned compliments, re-enforcednow and then with some pretty gift, he managed to keep himself wellposted regarding the mistress' movements and her social engagements, andthen he diligently followed up his espionage by frequenting the manyreceptions and balls which she attended. 

At these places she was always magnificently attired and seldom wore anyornaments except diamonds, of which she appeared to possess an endlessstore, and all were of great beauty and value. 

It was at a Delmonico ball, which was given in honor of a person ofroyal descent, and on the Friday evening preceding Ray Palmer's visitto Hazeldean, that Mr. Rider found his plans ripe for action andaccomplished his great _coup de grâce_. 

He had learned, through the pretty servant-girl, that Mrs. Vanderheckwas to grace the occasion with her presence and was to be attired in acostume of unusual richness and elegance--"with diamonds enough to blindyou, " the lively and voluble Fanny had boasted to her admirer. 

Consequently the detective got himself up in elaborate style, obtaineda ticket for the ball by some means best known to himself, and, when thefestivities were at their height, slipped in upon the brilliant scene. 

He was not long in "spotting" his prey, who was conspicuous in whitebrocaded velvet and white ostrich tips, while her person was literallyablaze with diamonds. 

"Great Scott!" the man muttered, as he ran his keen eye over her gorgeousattire; "it is a mystery to me how any woman dare wear such a fortuneupon her person; she is liable to be murdered any day. Why, she--Aha!"

His heart gave a sudden leap, and for a moment, as he afterward describedhis sensations, it seemed as if some one had struck him on the head witha club, for he actually saw stars and grew so dizzy and confused that hecould scarcely stand; for--_in the woman's ears he caught sight of agleaming pair of crescents_!

He soon recovered himself, however, and took a second look. He had, aswe know, been looking for those peculiar ornaments for more than threeyears, and now he had found them, as he had always believed he should, upon a gay woman of fashion in the midst of fashionable admirers. 

It did not take him long to decide upon his course of action, and he wasnow again the cool and collected detective, although the fierce glitterin his eyes betrayed some relentless purpose in his mind. 

He made his way quietly into a corner, where he stood covertly watchingthe brilliant woman, and comparing her appearance with a description thatwas written in cipher upon some tablets which he took from his pocket. 

"'Very attractive, about twenty-eight or thirty years, rather abovemedium height, somewhat inclined toward _embonpoint_, fair complexion, blue eyes, short, curling red hair, '--Hum!" he softly interposed at thispoint, "she answers very well to all except the red hair; but drop a redwig over her light-colored pate, tint her eyebrows and lashes with thesame color, and I'll wager my badge against a last year's hat we'dhave the Bently widow complete. There can be no doubt about thecrescents, though, and that cross on her bosom looks wonderfully likethe one that Palmer described to me. I suppose she thought no one wouldbe on the lookout for it here, and she could safely wear it with all therest, I always said the same woman put up both jobs, " he interposed, witha satisfied chuckle. "Guess I'll take a nearer look at the stones, though, before I do anything desperate. "

He put up his tablets, and began to move slowly about the rooms; but hiseagle eye never once left the form of the woman in white brocaded velvet. 

Three hours later, Mrs. Vanderheck, wrapped in an elegant circular ofcrimson satin, bordered with ermine, and attended by her maid and adignified policeman as a body-guard, swept down the grand stair-wayleading from the ball-room to the street, on her way to her carriage. 

As she stepped out across the pavement and was about to enter thevehicle, a quiet, gentlemanly looking person approached her and salutedher respectfully. 

"Madame--Mrs. Vander_beck_, " with an intentional emphasis on the lastsyllable, "you are my prisoner!"

The woman gave a violent start as she caught the name, and darted a keenglance of inquiry at him, all of which Mr. Rider was quick to note. 

Then she drew herself up haughtily. 

"Sir, I do not know you, and my name is not Vander_beck_; you have made amistake, " she said, icily. 

"I have made no mistake. You are the woman I have been looking for, formore than three years, whether you spell your name with a _b_, an _h_, orin a different way altogether; and I repeat--you are my prisoner. "

Mr. Rider laid his hand firmly but respectfully on her arm, as he ceasedspeaking, to enforce his meaning. 

She shook him off impatiently. 

"What is the meaning of this strange proceeding?" she demanded, indignantly; then turning to the policeman who attended her, shecontinued, in a voice of command: "I appeal to you for protectionagainst such insolence. "

"How is this, Rider?" now inquired the officer, who recognized thedetective, and was astonished beyond measure by this unexpected arrest. 

"She has on her person diamonds that I have been looking for, for overthree years, and I cannot afford to let them slip through my fingersafter such a hunt as that, " the detective quietly explained. 

"It is false!" the woman stoutly and indignantly asserted. "I wear nojewelry that is not my own property. Everything I have was either givento me or purchased with my husband's money. "

"I trust you will be able to prove the truth of your assertions, madame, "Mr. Rider quietly returned. "If you can do so, you will, of course, haveno further trouble. But I must do my duty. I have been employed to searchfor a pair of diamond crescents which properly belong to a person inChicago. I have seen such a pair in your ears to-night. You also wear across like one that I am searching for, and I shall be obliged to takeyou into custody until the matter can be properly investigated. "

Mrs. Vanderheck was evidently very much startled and upset by thisinformation, yet she behaved with remarkable fortitude, considering thetrying circumstances. 

"What am I to do?" she inquired, again appealing to the policemanattending her. "The crescents he mentions are _mine_--I bought themalmost three years ago in Boston. Of course, I know that I must provemy statement, and I think I can if you will give me time, for I believeI still have the bill of sale in my possession. I will look it up, andif"--turning to the detective--"you will call upon me some time to-morrowyou shall have it. "

Mr. Rider smiled, for the unsophisticated suggestion amused himimmensely. 

"I cannot lose sight of you, madame, " he said, courteously. "What youhave said may be true; I shall be glad, on your account, if it proves so;but my duty to others must be rigidly enforced, and so I am obliged toarrest you. "

"But _I_ cannot submit to an _arrest_; you surely do not mean that I--awoman in _my_ position--am to be imprisoned on the charge of _theft_!"exclaimed the woman, growing deadly white. 

"The law is no respecter of persons or position, madame, " laconicallyresponded the detective. 

"What _can I_ do?" Mrs. Vanderheck cried, in a tone of despair. 

"Rider, I am afraid you have made a mistake, " the policeman now remarked, in a low tone; "the woman is all right. I've acted as escort for her onsuch occasions as these for the last two years. "

The detective looked astonished and somewhat perplexed at this statement. 

If Mrs. Vanderheck had led a respectable life in New York for two years, and was as well known to this officer as he represented, he also began tofear that he might have made a mistake. 

"You are willing to defer the arrest if she can furnish ample securityfor her appearance when wanted?" the policeman asked, after a moment ofthought. 

"Ye-es; but responsible parties must vouch for her, " Mr. Rider answered, with some hesitation. 

The woman seized the suggestion with avidity. 

"Oh, then, I have a dozen friends who will serve me, " she cried, eagerly. "Come back to the ball-room with me and you shall have security to anyamount. " and with a haughty air she turned back and entered thebrilliantly lighted building which she had recently left. 

The policeman conducted them into a small reception-room, and Mrs. Vanderheck sent her card, with a few lines penciled on it, to awell-known banker, who was among the guests in the ball-room, requestinga few moments' personal conversation with him. 

The gentleman soon made his appearance, and was greatly astonished and noless indignant upon being informed of what had occurred. 

But he readily understood that the matter in hand must be legally settledbefore the lady could be fully acquitted. He therefore unhesitatinglygave security for her to the amount required by the detective, butpolitely refused to receive, as a guarantee of her integrity, the costlyornaments which Mrs. Vanderheck offered him then and there for theservice so kindly rendered. 

She, then, without a murmur, delivered over to the detective, in thepresence of her friend, the policeman, and her maid, the contestedcrescents and cross, and was then allowed to take her departure, with herattendants, without further ceremony. 

Early the next morning the following message went flashing over theWestern wires to Chicago, addressed thus:

"To JUSTIN CUTLER, ESQ. :--Crescents found. Come at once to identify. Bring bogus ones. 

"RIDER. "

The detective then sought Mr. Palmer, but upon being informed that he wasout of town, and would not return until the early part of the comingweek, he related to Ray what had happened on the previous evening, andadvised him to communicate the fact as soon as possible, to his father, and notify him that an examination would take place at ten o'clockon the following Tuesday. 

Ray had already telegraphed, in answer to his father's message, that hewould come to Hazeldean on Monday for the ball, and at first he thoughthe would make no change in his plans. The news was good news, and wouldkeep for a day or two, he told himself. 

But the detective's enthusiasm over the arrest was so contagious, hefound himself wishing that his father could also know what had occurred. 

He had an engagement for that evening--which was Saturday--so he couldnot go to Hazeldean that day, and finally contented himself bycommissioning Mr. Rider to drop Mr. Palmer a message, giving hima hint of the arrest, and then arranged to go himself to explain morefully, by the Sunday evening train. 

It almost seemed as if fate had purposely arranged it thus, that he mightfind Mona alone as he did, to declare his love, and win in return theconfession of her affection for him. 

The moment his father entered the house and met him, on his return fromthe evening service at the village, he realized that some great changehad come over him; he was very different from the depressed, anxious-eyedson whom he had left only a few days previous. 

He could hardly attribute it entirely to the news of the arrest of thesupposed thief of the diamonds, and yet he could think of nothing else, for he firmly believed that Walter Dinsmore's niece had left New Yorkafter her uncle's death, and he had no reason to believe that Ray hadfound trace of her. 

But whatever had caused the change--whatever had served to bring back theold light to his eyes, the old smile to his lips, and all his formerbrightness and energy of manner, he was grateful for it, and he hailedthe result with a delight that made itself manifest in the hearty gripof his hand and his eager-toned:

"How are you, Ray, my boy? I am glad to see you. "

CHAPTER XXI. 

MONA AND RAY HAVE ANOTHER INTERVIEW. 

Mona was very happy as she went up to her room after her interview withRay that eventful Sunday evening, during the early part of which life hadseemed darker than usual to her. 

The man whom she loved was true, in spite of the doubt and sorrow she hadexperienced over his apparent neglect. She had not after all built herhopes upon shifting sand; she had not reared an idol in her heart only tohave to hurl it from its shrine as false and worthless. Oh, no; her loverwas a man to be reverenced--to be proud of, and to be trusted underall circumstances. 

She exulted in these facts almost as much as in the knowledge of his lovefor her, and she dropped to sleep with joy in her heart, smiles on herlips, and tears of gratitude flashing like diamonds on her long brownlashes. 

The next morning she seemed almost like a new creature. The world hadsuddenly acquired a wonderful brightness and beauty, and it was a delighteven to exist. 

It was no hardship to be a seamstress or even a waiting-maid, so longas she was blessed with Raymond Palmer's love and with the prospect ofbecoming his wife in the near future. 

Involuntarily a gay little song rippled from her lips while she wasdressing, and the unusual sound catching Mrs. Montague's ear caused alook of surprise to sweep over her face, for she had never heard RuthRichards sing so much as a note before. 

"The girl has a sweet, flexible voice. I wonder if she is going tosurprise me, every now and then, with some new accomplishment! Maybe Ihave an embryo _prima-donna_ in my employ!" she muttered, with a scornfulsmile. 

Her surprise was not diminished when she saw the happy girl with herbright and animated manners and the new love-light shining on her face, making it almost dazzling in its intensified loveliness. 

"What has come over you, Ruth?" Mrs. Montague inquired, regarding hercuriously. "One would almost imagine you were going to the ball yourselfto-night, you appear to be so happy and elated. "

"I believe there must be something unusually exhilarating in theatmosphere, " Mona replied, a gleeful little laugh rippling over hersmiling lips, although she blushed beneath the woman's searching look. "Don't you think that excitement is sometimes infectious?--and surelyeverybody has been active and gay for days. I like to see people happy, and then the morning is perfectly lovely. "

Truly the world was all _couleur de rose_ to her since love's elixir hadgiven a new impetus to her heart-pulses!

Mrs. Montague frowned slightly, for somehow the girl's unusual moodannoyed her. 

She could not forget her exceeding loveliness on Saturday evening, whenshe had been arrayed in the festal robe which she herself was to wear atthe ball, and the memory of it nettled her. 

Perhaps, she thought, Ruth remembered it also, and was secretly exultingover the fact of her own beauty. Exceedingly vain herself, she was quickto suspect vanity in others, and this thought only increased herirritation. 

"I'd give a great deal if she wasn't so pretty; and--and that style ofbeauty always annoys me, " she said to herself, with a feeling of angryimpatience. 

And giving a sudden twitch to a delicate ruffle, which she had begun toarrange upon the corsage of a dress, to show Mona how she wanted it, shemade a great rugged tear in the filmy fabric, thus completely ruining thefrill. 

This only served to increase her ill humor. 

"There! now I cannot wear this dress at dinner to-day, " she cried, flushing angrily over the mishap, "for the frill is ruined. "

"Haven't you something else that you can use in its place?" Mona quietlyasked. 

"No; nothing looks as well on this corsage as these wide, fleecy frillsof _crape lisse_. It is the only dress, too, that I have not already wornhere, and I was depending upon it for to-day, " was the irritableresponse. 

Mona thought she had plenty of laces and ruffles that would have answeredvery well, and which might easily have been substituted, but she did notthink it best to make any further suggestions to her in her present mood. 

"I know what I can do, " Mrs. Montague continued, after a moment, in amilder tone. "I saw some ruffling very nearly like this in a milliner'swindow at Rhinebeck, when I was out riding on Saturday. There are someother little things that I shall want for this evening, and you may takea walk by and by to get them for me. "

Rhinebeck was a full mile away, and Mrs. Montague could easily havearranged to have Mona ride, for a carriage was sent every morning for themail; but it did not occur to her to do so, or if it did, she evidentlydid not care to put herself to that trouble. 

Mona, however, did not mind the walk--indeed, on the whole, she wasrather glad of the privilege of getting out by herself into the sunshinewhich was so in harmony with her own bright mood. Still she could nothelp feeling that it was rather inconsiderate of Mrs. Montague to requireher to walk two miles simply to gratify a mere whim. 

It was about nine o'clock when she started out upon her errand, and asshe ran down the steps and out upon the broad avenue, her bright eyeswent glancing eagerly about, for Mona had secretly hoped that she mightcatch a glimpse of and perhaps even secure a few words with her lover. 

But Ray was nowhere visible, being just at that moment in thesmoking-room with several other gentlemen. 

Mr. Palmer, the senior, however, was walking in the park, and evidentlydeeply absorbed in the consideration of some important matter, for hishands were clasped behind him, his head was bowed, and his eyes fixedupon the ground. 

But he glanced up as Mona passed him, and his eyes lighted as they fellupon her beautiful face. 

He lifted his hat and bowed as courteously to her as he would have doneto Mrs. Montague herself, and Mona's heart instantly warmed toward himfor his politeness as she returned his salute. 

"She is the prettiest girl in the house if she _is_ only a waiting-maid, "he muttered, as he turned for a second to look at the graceful figureafter Mona had passed him. "How finely she carries herself--howelastic her step!"

Another pair of observing eyes had also caught sight of her by this time, and mental comments of a far different character were running through ayounger brain. 

The smoking-room at Hazeldean was in the third story of the south wingof the house, and overlooked the avenue and park, as well as a broadstretch of country beyond, and Ray Palmer, sitting beside one of thewindows--apparently listening to the conversation of his companions, butreally thinking of his interview with Mona the previous evening--espiedhis betrothed just as she was leaving the grounds of Hazeldean andturning into the main road. 

He knocked the ashes from his cigar, took another whiff or two, then laidit down, and turned to his host, who was sitting near him. 

"I believe I would like a canter across the country this bright morning, Mr. Wellington, " he remarked. "May I beg the use of a horse and saddlefor a couple of hours?"

"Certainly, Mr. Palmer--whatever I have in the stable in the form ofhorses or vehicles is as the disposal of my guests, " was the courteousreply. "It is a fine morning for a ride, " the gentleman added, "andperchance, " with an arch smile, "you may be able to find some bright-eyedmaiden who would be glad to accompany you. "

Ray thanked him, and then hastened away to the stable to select hishorse--his companion he knew he would find later on. In less than fifteenminutes from the time he had seen Mona leave the grounds he was canteringin the same direction; but she was a rapid walker, and he did notovertake her until she had nearly reached the village. 

She caught the sound of a horse's hoofs behind her, but did not like tolook back to see who was approaching, and it was only when the equestrianwas close beside her that she glanced up to find the fond, smiling eyesof her lover resting upon her. 

The glad look of welcome which leaped into her own eyes and flashed overher face told him how well he was beloved far better than any words couldhave done. 

"_Ray_!" she exclaimed, in a joyous tone, as he drew rein beside her, andunhesitatingly laid her hand within the strong palm which he extended toher. 

"My darling!" he returned, as he leaped to the ground, "this is anunexpected pleasure! I hardly dared to hope that I should see you aloneto-day. How does it happen that you are so far from Hazeldean andwalking?"

"Mrs. Montague had a few errands which she wished me to do for her in thevillage, " Mona explained. 

"Could she not have arranged for you to ride?" Ray asked, with a frown, and flushing to have his dear one's comfort so ignored. 

"Oh, I do not mind the walk in the least, " she hastened to say. "Themorning is very lovely, and I am glad, on the whole, for I should havemissed you if I had ridden. "

"True, I saw you just as you were leaving Hazeldean, and so came afteryou, " Ray returned, smiling. 

They were just entering Rhinebeck now, and Mona looked anxiously up anddown the street. 

She feared that some of the other guests at Hazeldean might be about andsee her with Ray if they should go through the place together. 

He was quick to note the anxiety, and to understand its cause. 

"How long will it take you to make your purchases, Mona?" he inquired, looking at his watch. 

"Half an hour, perhaps, " she replied. 

"Well, then, I will leave you here, for a little trot about the country, and meet you again at this spot at the end of thirty minutes. I cannotresist the temptation to have a little chat with you on the way home, "Ray returned, and, with another fond pressure of the hand, he leapedagain upon his horse and galloped away. 

With a rapidly beating heart and flushed cheeks, Mona hurried on her way. She made her purchases with all possible dispatch, then, as she had a fewminutes to spare, she slipped into a hot-house, where flowers werecultivated for the city market, and bought a bunch of white violets, anda few sprays of heliotrope, then she turned her footsteps back towardHazeldean. 

She had hardly reached the spot where she had parted from Ray, when sheheard him coming in the distance. 

He joined her in another moment, and springing from the saddle, he threwthe bridle-rein over his arm and walked beside her, leading his horse. 

They had not proceeded far when they came to a place where another roadappeared to branch off from the road they were on. 

"Let us turn here, " Ray said. "I have been exploring while you were inthe village, and I found that this is a kind of lane, hedged on eitherside with a thick growth of pines, and leads back to the main roadfarther on. It is a little roundabout, but we shall not be likely to meetany one whom we know, and we shall feel far more freedom. "

Mona was very glad to adopt this plan, and wandering slowly along beneaththe shadows of the heavy pines, the lovers soon forgot that there was anyone else in the world except themselves. 

They talked over more fully the incidents of the weeks of theirseparation, but Ray dwelt a good deal upon the story of the stolendiamonds, and Mona could not fail to observe that he was very muchtroubled about the affair. 

"It is a great loss, " he remarked, with a sigh, "and though I cannot feelthat I am culpably blamable, yet I do not cease to reproach myself forhaving been so thoroughly fooled by that woman. If I had only retained myhold upon the package, she never could have got it. "

"But you may recover the diamonds, even now, " Mona remarked. "You saythat the detective arrested a woman on Friday evening as the suspectedparty. "

"Yes, he suspects her in connection with another case, which he has beenat work upon for over three years, " and Ray related the story of thestolen crescents, then continued: "At the Delmonico ball he saw this Mrs. Vanderheck with them in her ears, and a cross like one that we lost, sohe arrested her upon suspicion of both robberies, but somehow I am notvery sanguine that we shall recover the stones. "

"Did you not see the cross?" Mona asked. 

"No; Mr. Rider had deposited it somewhere for safe keeping. It willbe produced at the examination to-morrow. But, really, Mona, " Rayinterposed, with a nervous laugh, "I feel worse over the fact of havingbeen so taken in by this pretended Mrs. Vanderbeck, than over thepecuniary loss. "

The poor fellow felt very much as Justin Cutler felt when he learned howhe had been tricked into paying a large price for the pair of pastecrescents. 

"How did the woman look, Ray? Describe her to me, " Mona said. 

She experienced a strange fascination in the story with all its curiousdetails. 

Ray gave a vivid word-picture of the beautiful woman, her dress, hercarriage, and even her driver, for everything connected with thatunexampled experience was indelibly stamped upon his mind. 

"You say her dress was badly torn, " Mona musingly observed, when he hadconcluded the account of the discovery, and what had followed theirgetting out of the carriage and entering Doctor Wesselhoff's office. 

"Yes, there was quite a rent in it, and I imagine this circumstance wasnot premeditated in the plan of her campaign, for she certainly wasannoyed to have the beautiful cloth torn, although she tried to makelight of it, " Ray replied, then added: "And later in the day I found apiece of the goods adhering to my clothing. "

"Did you?" questioned Mona, eagerly. 

"Yes, and if I should ever see that dress again I could easily identifyit, for I have the piece now and could fit it into the rent. Butdoubtless my lady has disposed of that costume long before this. Here isthe piece, though--I have kept it, thinking it might possibly be of usesome time. "

Ray drew forth his pocket-book as he spoke, opened it, took out a foldedpaper, and handed it to Mona. 

She opened it, and found carefully pinned within, a scrap of mauvecolored ladies' cloth, in the form of a ragged acute angle. 

"It is almost like broadcloth--very fine and heavy, " she exclaimed. "Itis a lovely color, too, and must have been a very beautiful costume. "

"It was, and dangerously so, " said Ray, dryly. "I admired it exceedingly, especially the fit and make of it. "

"I imagine it might have been found in some dye-house shortly after, ifyou had only thought of it and known where to look, " Mona thoughtfullyobserved. 

"That is a bright idea, " said Ray, quickly. "I honestly believe thatwomen would make keener and better detectives than men. But, " with asigh, "I'm afraid it is too late now to put your theory to the test, and perhaps I have brushed against its folds on the street a dozen timessince in a different color. Well, I suppose I must try to reconcilemyself to the inevitable and make up my mind that the stones are gonebeyond recovery, unless this Mrs. Vanderheck should prove to be thethief. I have not much faith in the detective's theory, that the Chicagoadventuress and our diamond thief are one and the same. "

"There seems to be a singular coincidence about the name of the lady whoso imposed upon you, and that of the one who is now under arrest, " Monaremarked. 

"Yes, the only difference is in one letter, and if Mrs. Vanderheck doesnot prove to be my charmer, or connected with her in any way, I shall betempted to believe that she purposely took a name so similar in order tothrow suspicion upon this woman, " said the young man, thoughtfully. 

"That may be; and is it not a little suspicious, too, that Mrs. Vanderbeck should have mentioned an invalid husband when Mrs. Vanderheckreally has one?" Mona inquired. 

"I had not thought of that before, " Ray replied. "Still another singularcircumstance comes to my mind just at this moment. At the time I wasintroduced to Mrs. Vanderheck, at Mrs. Merrill's reception, I repeatedthe name as if it was spelled with a 'b, ' and emphasized the lastsyllable. The woman started, glanced at me curiously, and changed colora trifle, while she did not seem to quite recover her self-possessionthroughout our conversation. "

"That does seem rather strange, considering all things, " said Mona. "Perhaps, after all, she may prove to be your adventuress; and yet shemust be a very bold one to flaunt her plunder so recklessly and in thevery presence of people who would be sure to recognize it. "

They changed the subject after that, and chatted upon topics of a moretender and interesting nature. 

It was a delightful walk in the mild February air, and a pleasantinterview, and both were loath to part when they suddenly foundthemselves at the other end of the pine-shadowed lane where it curvedinto the main road again. 

Ray took a tender leave of his dear one, then mounting his horse, rode back over the way they had just traversed, while Mona went onto Hazeldean. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

MONA ATTENDS THE BALL AT HAZELDEAN. 

Mona found considerable excitement and confusion prevailing upon herreturn, for carpenters and decorators were busy about the house; flowersand plants were being carried in from the conservatory; the caterer andhis force were arranging things to their minds, in the dining-room andkitchen, and everybody, guests included, was busy and in a flutter ofanticipation over the approaching festivities. 

"It seems to me that you were gone a long while, " Mrs. Montague curtlyremarked, as Mona entered her room. 

"Was I?" the young girl asked, pleasantly; then she added: "Well, twomiles make quite a walk. "

Mrs. Montague flushed at the remark. 

She was well aware that she had been unreasonable in requiring so much, just to secure a few articles which she might have very well donewithout, and this thought did not add to her comfort. 

She made no reply, but quietly laid out some work for Mona, whom she keptbusily employed during the remainder of the day. 

The young girl cheerfully performed all that was required of her, however; her interview with Ray had served to sweeten every task for thatday, while she hoped that she might secure another opportunity, before itwas over, for a few more words with him. 

But after dinner Mrs. Montague came up stairs better-natured than she hadbeen all day, and turning to Mona, as she entered the room, she asked:

"Have you none but mourning dresses with you? nothing white, or pretty, for evening?"

"No; my dresses are all black; the only thing I have that would be at allsuitable for evening is a black net, " Mona answered, wondering, withrising color, why she had asked the question. 

"That might do with some white ribbons to liven it up a bit, " said Mrs. Montague, thoughtfully. Then she explained: "Mr. Wellington has arrangeda balcony in the dancing hall for some friends who are coming to theball, just to look on for a while, and he has just said to me that therewould be a seat for you, if you cared to see the dancing. "

Mona looked up eagerly at this. 

She dearly loved social life, and she had wished, oh, so much! that shemight have the privilege of witnessing the gay scenes of the evening. 

"That is very kind of Mr. Wellington, " she gratefully remarked. 

"Get your dress, and let me look at it, " continued Mrs. Montague, whowould not commit herself to anything until she could be sure that herseamstress would make a respectable appearance among Mr. Wellington'sfriends. 

He had requested as a favor that Miss Richards might be allowed thisprivilege in return for having so kindly relieved his daughter at thepiano a few evenings previous. 

Mona brought the dress--a rich, heavy net, made over handsome black silk, which had been among her wardrobe for the previous summer, when she wentto Lenox with her uncle. 

"That will be just the thing, only it needs something to relieve itsblackness, " said Mrs. Montague, while she mentally wondered at therichness of the costume. 

"I have some narrow white taste in my trunk, which I can perhaps use tomake it a little more suitable for the occasion, if you approve, " Monaquietly remarked. 

"Yes, fix it as you like, " the lady returned, indifferently, adding:"that is if you care about going into the pavilion. "

"Thank you; I think I should enjoy watching the dancers for a while, " theyoung girl returned. 

Perhaps, she thought, she might be able to snatch another brief interviewwith Ray. At all events she should see him, and that would be worth agreat deal. 

Her nimble fingers were very busy after that running her white ribbonsinto the meshes of her dress. 

She wove three rows of the narrow, feather-edged taste into each of theflounces, and the effect was very pretty. Then she did the same betweenthe puffs of the full sleeves, tying some dainty bows where she joinedthem, and finished the neck to correspond. 

This was hardly completed when she was called to assist Mrs. Montaguein dressing, and by the time she was ready to descend her good humor wasthoroughly restored, for she certainly was a most regal looking woman inher elegant and becoming toilet. 

"I do not believe there will be another dress here this evening asbeautiful as this, " Mona remarked, as she fastened the last fold inplace, her pretty face flushing with genuine admiration for the artisticcostume. 

"It _is_ handsome, and I look passably young in it, too; how old shouldyou take me to be Ruth?" Mrs. Montague asked, with a smiling glance ather own reflection in the mirror. 

"A trifle over thirty, perhaps, " Mona replied, and the little exultantlaugh which broke from her companion told her that she felt highlyflattered by that estimate of her years. 

"There!" she remarked, as she drew on her gloves, "you need do nothingmore for me; go now and get ready yourself, or you will miss the openingpromenade. "

Mona hastened away to her own room, where she had everything laid out inthe most orderly manner, ready to put on, and if Mrs. Montague could haveseen the dainty undergarments and skirts spread upon her bed; the costlykid boots and silken hose for her pretty feet, she might have arched hereyebrows more than ever over the extravagant taste of her seamstress. 

Mona arranged her hair with great care, as she had worn it on the eveningwhen she attended the opera with Ray, and this done she was soon ready. 

She looked lovely. The black net, with its dainty white trimmings, wasvery becoming to her delicate complexion. The lining to the corsage hadbeen cut low, and her pure white neck gleamed like marble through themeshes of the dusky lace. There was no lining, either, to her sleeves andher beautifully rounded arms looked like bits of exquisite sculpture. She had turned the lace away in the shape of a V at her throat, and nowfinished it by pinning to her corsage the cluster of white violets whichshe had purchased in the morning. 

She regretted that she had no gloves with her suitable for the occasion, but since she was only to sit in the balcony, she thought it would notmatter much if she wore none, and her small white hands, with theirrose-tinted finger-tips, were by no means unsightly objects. 

She was very happy and light-hearted, as she turned for one last look inher mirror before leaving her room. 

She smiled involuntarily at her own loveliness, and gave a gay little nodat the charming reflection as she turned away. 

Then she went out and softly down a back stair-way to avoid the crowds ofpeople who were going up and down the front way. 

But, on reaching the lower floor, she was obliged to cross the main halland drawing-room in order to reach the pavilion, which Mr. Wellington hadcaused to be erected outside on the lawn for dancing, and which wasconnected with the house by a covered passage leading from one of thelong windows of the drawing-room. 

Mona stood in the doorway a moment, feeling slightly embarrassed at thethought of going unattended to search for her seat in the balcony. 

Just then a round, white arm was slipped about her waist, and a gay, girlish voice cried in her ear:

"Oh, Miss Richards! how perfectly lovely you look! Are you coming to theball?"

Mona turned and smiled into the bright face of Kitty McKenzie, who wasradiant in pink silk and white tulle. 

"No, only as a spectator, " she replied, with an answering smile. "Mr. Wellington has kindly offered me a seat in the balcony, where I shallenjoy watching the merrymakers. "

"But do you not _like_ to dance yourself?" questioned the girl. 

"Oh, yes, indeed. I used to enjoy it very much, " Mona replied, with alittle sigh. 

"Then I think it is a great pity that you cannot join us to-night, "returned Miss Kitty, regretfully, for she had caught the sigh; "only, "she added, with sudden thought, "being in mourning, perhaps you wouldrather not. "

"No, I should not care to dance to-night, " Mona returned, and then shebecame conscious that a familiar form was approaching the spot where theystood. 

It was not an easy matter for her to keep back her color as Ray drewnear, and try to appear as if she had never seen him before. She knewthat he was choosing this opportunity to be formally introduced to her. 

But the voluble Miss McKenzie saluted him in her frank outspoken manner. 

"Oh, Mr. Palmer, " she cried, "are not the rooms lovely?--the flowers, thelights, indeed _all_ the decorations?"

"They are, truly, Miss McKenzie; and, " he added, with a merry smile, ashe glanced at her bright face and figure, and then turned his gaze uponMona, "there are some other lovely adornments about the rooms, besidesthose so skillfully used by the professional decorator. "

"Thank you--of course that was intended as a compliment to ourselves, "the quick-witted little lady returned, as she dropped him a coquettishcourtesy; "and, " turning to Mona, "perhaps you would like an introductionto my friend. Miss Richards, allow me to present you to Mr. Palmer. "

Ray bowed low over the white hand which Mona mechanically offered him, and which he clasped in a way to send a thrill leaping along her nervesthat made the violets upon her bosom quiver, as if a breath of wind hadswept over them. 

She barely had time to acknowledge the presentation, however, when an icyvoice behind her remarked:

"Miss Richards, Mr. Wellington is looking for you to conduct you to yourseat in the balcony. "

Turning, Mona saw Mrs. Montague regarding her with a look of colddispleasure, and she knew that she must have witnessed her introductionto Ray, and disapproved of it. 

But she was secretly glad that she had been so near, for now she couldfeel free to recognize her lover whenever they met, without the fear ofbeing questioned as to how she happened to know him. 

"Mr. Wellington looking for Miss Richards, did you say, Mrs. Montague?"Ray inquired, quickly improving his opportunity, and looking about him insearch of that gentleman. "Ah! I see him yonder--Miss Richards, allow meto conduct you to him. "

He offered his arm in a ceremonious way, as any new acquaintance mighthave done, and led her slowly toward the spot where Mr. Wellington wasstanding, while Mrs. Montague watched them, with a frown upon her brow. 

"I believe I was a fool to allow her to come down; she is far too prettyto appear in public with me; any one would suppose her to be an equal, "she muttered, irritably. "Who would have believed, " she added, "that shecould have gotten herself up in that bewitching style, with only a fewbits of white ribbon and not a single ornament! I wonder where she gother violets? She has exquisite taste, anyhow. "

But Ray and Mona were unconscious of these jealous remarks. They wereoblivious of everything just then, except the presence of each other andthe fortunate circumstances which had thrown them together. 

"My darling, " Ray said, under his breath, "that was very cleverlymanaged, was it not? Don't you think I am quite a tactician? I caughtsight of you the moment you appeared; then that bright fairy, Kitty McKenzie, arrived upon the scene, and I knew that myopportunity had come. "

"But you almost took my breath away, Ray, when you bore me off sounceremoniously before Mrs. Montague's disapproving eyes, " Mona murmuredin response. 

"Unceremonious!" the young man retorted, with assumed surprise, and aroguish smile. "Why, I thought I was excessively formal. "

"Yes, in your manner to me; but you did not ask the lady's permission toconduct me to the host. "

"How was I supposed to know that Miss Richards, to whom I had just beenintroduced, was not a guest as well as the more gorgeous, but lesslovely, Mrs. Montague?" questioned the young lover, lightly. "But, " hecontinued, with a sigh, "I cannot bear this sort of thing a great while. When I see you looking like some beautiful young goddess, I find it verydifficult to assume an indifferent exterior. I nearly forgot myself amoment ago. "

"Perhaps it would have been better if I had remained quietly in my ownroom, " Mona archly returned, as she gave him a mischievous glance out ofher bright eyes. 

He drew the hand that lay on his arm close to his side with a fondpressure. 

"Indeed, no!" he said, tenderly; "it is better to meet you thus than notat all. But must I give you up to Mr. Wellington?" he continued, in awistful tone, as they drew near the gentleman. "No; I will ask him todirect me to the balcony, and I will conduct you there myself. "

"Ah, Miss Richards, I have been looking for you, " Mr. Wellingtonremarked, as his eye fell upon the fair girl. "It is almost time for theopening promenade, and you ought to be in your seat, so as not to missanything. But wait a moment; I must speak to this gentleman first, " heconcluded, as some one approached him. 

"Pray, Mr. Wellington, since you are so engaged, let me conduct MissRichards to the balcony, " Ray here interposed, as if the thought had justoccurred to him. 

Mr. Wellington, with a look of relief, readily assented to theproposition, and Ray and his companion were thus permitted to enjoya little more of each other's society. 

They easily found their way to the balcony, where Ray secured a goodposition for his _fiancée_. 

"I suppose I will have to leave you now, " he whispered in her ear; "I amengaged to Miss Wellington for the promenade; but, by and by, Mona, Ishall steal away and come to you again. "

"Do not leave the dancing on my account, Ray, " Mona pleaded; "it is allso bright and lovely down there. I know you will enjoy it. "

"I should, if I could have you with me, " he interrupted, fondly; "but, asI cannot, I would much prefer to remain quietly here with you--only thatwould not do, I suppose. "

"No, indeed, " she returned, decidedly. "Now you _must_ go, for theorchestra is beginning to play. "

He left her, with a fond hand-clasp that brought a happy smile to her redlips, and went below to seek his host's daughter. 

Mona was very glad, later on, that she was not below with the dancers, for she saw quite a number of people from New York, whom she knew, andshe would not have cared to be recognized by them--or rather snubbed bythem. 

It was a brilliant scene when the grand procession formed. 

The pavilion had been very tastefully decorated, and one would hardlyhave believed that there were only bare, rough boards behind theartistically draped damask silk and lace, which had been used inprofusion to conceal them. The spacious room was brilliantly lighted;flowers and potted plants were everywhere, making the place bright withtheir varied hues, and sending forth their fragrance into every nook andcorner, while the fine orchestra was concealed behind a screen of palms, mingled with oleanders in full bloom. 

There must have been at least two hundred people present, the gentlemen, of course, in full evening dress, while the ladies' costumes were ofexceeding richness and beauty, yet among them all, it is doubtful ifthere was one so happy as the lovely girl who sat so quietly in thebalcony and watched the gay scene in which she could not mingle. 

There were a good many people sitting there with her, and not a fewregarded her with curious and admiring interest, and judged from herdress that she was in mourning, and that she was thus debarred, bythe customs of society, from appearing in a ball-room as one of thedancers. That she was a lady no one doubted for a moment, for her everylook and movement betrayed it. 

Now and then Ray's fond glances would seek her, and, catching her eye, a little nod or smile plainly told her how he longed to be with her. 

Mona saw Mrs. Montague conspicuous among the dancers, and she appearedto enter into the spirit of the occasion with almost the zest of a younggirl during her first season; while it was noticed that Mr. Palmer washer companion more frequently than any other person. 

She had come in with him for the grand march, and when the procession forsupper was formed she was again upon his arm. 

But Mona could not see Ray anywhere among this crowd, and the occupantsof the balcony also going below for refreshment, she found herself almostalone in the pavilion. 

But it was not for long, for presently she caught the sound of a quick, elastic step, and the next moment her lover was beside her. 

"Come back a little, dear, where we can sit in the shadow of thedraperies, and we will have a precious half-hour all by ourselves, " hesaid, in a low tone; "then in a few moments a servant will bring us upsome supper. "

"How thoughtful you are, Ray! But, truly, I do not care for anything toeat, " Mona returned, as she arose and followed him to a cozy nook, wherethe draperies would partially conceal them from observation. 

"I do, my brown-eyed lassie, " Ray responded, emphatically; "after theviolent exercise of the last two hours I am quite sure my inner man needsreplenishing. Ah, James, you're a good fellow, " he continued, as atan-colored son of the South now made his appearance, bearing a tray oftempting viands. "Here, take this and drink my health by and by; but comeback and get your tray in the course of half an hour. "

The darky showed two rows of brilliant teeth as Ray slipped a silverdollar into his hand; then with a cheerful "Yes, sir--thank'ee, sir, "and a low bow he disappeared as suddenly as he had come. 

Mona was hungry, in spite of her assertion to the contrary, and sheenjoyed the rich treat that Ray had so thoughtfully provided for her, while he was full of fun and gayety, and they had a merry time up thereall by themselves. 

When the dancers began to return, Ray quietly remarked:

"My darling, I am not going down to the company again; I feel guilty tohave you sit moping here, while I am playing the gallant cavalier toother girls. "

Mona laughed out softly, but gleefully, at this speech. 

"I trust you will always be as conscientious and dutiful, my loyalknight, " she roguishly retorted. 

"You will never have cause to question my loyalty, my own, " he whispered, with a look that brought a bright color into her cheeks. 

"But I have not been moping, " Mona resumed. "I have enjoyed being hereand watching the dancers very much, and you know I could not join themeven if my present position did not debar me, " she tremulously concluded. 

"True; I had not thought of that, " the young man said, gravely, as hiseye swept over her black dress. 

"So, then, if you feel that your duty is below, do not hesitate aboutleaving me, " Mona urged. 

"I am not going, " he firmly reiterated. "I have been formally introducedto 'Miss Richards, ' and I have a perfect right to cultivate heracquaintance if I choose. "

Mona did not urge him further; she saw that he really wished to stay, andshe was only too happy to have him there by her side; and so the loverspassed two delightful hours, watching the gay throng below, now and thenexchanging fond looks or a few low spoken words, and only one pair ofeyes among the multitude espied and recognized them. 

These belonged to Louis Hamblin, whose eyes lighted with sudden triumph, while an evil smile played over his face as he saw them. 

"I thought so, " he muttered, as he noticed Ray Palmer's attitude ofdevotion. "That would prove the truth of my suspicions, if nothing elsedid so. "

CHAPTER XXIII. 

LOUIS HAMBLIN IS JEALOUS OF RAY. 

It was after one o'clock when Mona told Ray that she must go to her room, so as to be in readiness to assist Mrs. Montague when she came up fromthe pavilion. 

Ray was loath to let her go; he longed to keep her there with him untilthe last moment, but he felt that she was the best judge of her duty, andhe would not interfere with it, since he had conceded the point of herremaining with Mrs. Montague for the present. 

He arose to accompany her through the pavilion and drawing-room to thehall. 

"Will it not be better for me to go alone?" asked Mona, fearing that shemight be made conspicuous by this attention. 

"Through all that crowd!" exclaimed her lover, surprised. "No, indeed;I would not allow any lady whom I knew to go unattended, and since it isknown that I have been formally presented to Miss Richards, why should Inot treat her with becoming politeness?"

Mona made no further objection, but quietly took his arm and allowedhim to have his way. She was proud and happy to know that Ray wasnoble-minded enough to have no fear of being seen publicly showingcourtesy to a simple seamstress. 

As they were passing through the drawing-room Mona caught sight of Mrs. Montague and Mr. Palmer sitting in an alcove by themselves. 

Both glanced up, for the young couple were obliged to pass near them, andMrs. Montague frowned as she saw her waiting-maid, for the second timethat evening, upon the arm of Ray. 

Mr. Palmer flushed and appeared somewhat embarrassed as he met his son'seye, although he nodded and smiled in his usual genial way. 

Reaching the main hall, Ray led Mona to the foot of the stairs, and heldout his hand for a parting clasp. 

"Good-night, my darling, " he said, bending over her and speaking in alow tone. "Do you know that you are all the world to me, and I shallimpatiently count the days until I can claim you--three months hence atthe farthest! I must say good-by, too, " he added, "as we leave for NewYork early in the morning; but I shall try to see you again in a fewdays. "

Mona smiled, a delicate flush suffusing her face at his fond words; then, responding to his good-night, she went quickly up stairs and sought herroom, firmly believing that she was the happiest person at Hazeldean, and that her lover was the noblest man in the world. 

Louis Hamblin had seen the young couple leave the pavilion, and followingthem at a distance, had watched them with a jealous eye as they tookleave of each other. 

Another pair of eyes were also peering at them over the banister in theupper hall, and a beautiful face clouded over with anger and jealousywhen Ray bent, with that earnest, luminous look, to whisper his partingin Mona's ear. 

They belonged to a brilliant society belle, Miss Josephine Holt, who hadlong entertained a secret affection for Ray. 

She also knew Mona, having met her in society earlier in the season, andhad been jealous of the young man's attentions to her. 

She wondered at finding her there at Hazeldean, for she knew of her lossof fortune. She slipped out of sight into a dressing-room as Mona came upstairs, and, finding Miss Merrill there, asked her, in an indifferenttone, as Mona passed the door, who the young lady was. 

"Oh, that is Ruth Richards--Mrs. Montague's waiting-maid, " was the reply. 

A smile of scorn leaped to Miss Holt's proud lips as she heard the name. 

"Ruth Richards, " she repeated to herself. "So this is how she disappearedso suddenly out of the knowledge of everybody. A common waiting-maid, andtoo proud to sail under her own name! I wonder if she is a relative ofMrs. Montague? If she is, perhaps that lady objected to having it known, and so called her Ruth Richards. Can it be possible that Ray Palmeris attentive to her _now_? Does he know that she is sailing under falsecolors? I think I will look into this state of affairs a little!"

The young lady donned her wraps and took her departure from Hazeldean, but with an angry frown upon her brow, for her enjoyments of the eveninghad been entirely spoiled by the little scene which she had justwitnessed. 

After Ray left Mona he drew his outside coat on over his evening dressand went out into the grounds for a quiet smoke and to think, for he felttroubled and nervous. 

His father's flush and embarrassment, as he caught his eye while passingthrough the drawing-room, were a revelation to him. 

Mona had spoken to him of his attentions to Mrs. Montague, and he hadalso observed them, since coming to Hazeldean, but he had hoped that theywere only temporary, and would not amount to anything serious. 

But to-night it was only too evident that the beautiful and dashing widowhad acquired a strong influence over his father, and he began to fearthat he was seriously contemplating making her his wife. 

He was startled and shocked--not because of any unreasonable jealousy, ora selfish aversion to the thought of having his father take a congenialcompanion into his home; but he feared she was not a woman to make himhappy. She was gay and worldly; she lived for and in the excitement ofsociety, while Mr. Palmer was more quiet and domestic in his tastes. 

Besides, he had somehow became imbued with the idea that she was lackingin principle. Perhaps what Mona had told him about her, in connectionwith her mother's history, might have given him this impression; but, whatever had caused it, he shrank with the greatest repugnance fromhaving her become the wife of his father. 

Still he felt helpless to prevent it; he experienced great delicacy aboutmaking any objections if his father should intimate a wish to change hiscondition, and he could readily see that by so doing he would not onlydeeply wound him, but be likely to make an enemy of Mrs. Montague. 

So these were the things he wished to think over by himself, and thatsent him out into the grounds after he had left Mona. 

The night was a beautiful one. There was not a cloud in the sky, and thefull moon was sailing in matchless majesty through the star-studded vaultabove, while the brilliantly lighted house and park, with the entrancingmusic from the pavilion floating out to him on the still air, added theircharm to the scene. 

Ray lighted his cigar and strolled down the avenue, his heart filled withconflicting emotions. He was very happy in his new relations with Mona, yet strangely uneasy and depressed regarding his father's prospects. 

There was a line of great Norway spruce trees along one side of theavenue, not far from the main road, and as Ray, deeply absorbed in hisown thoughts, was passing these, a figure suddenly stepped out fromamong them and accosted him. 

It was Louis Hamblin. 

"Ah, Palmer, " he said, affably, "out for a smoke? Give me a light, willyou?"

"Certainly, " Ray responded, cordially, and politely extended his cigar tohim. 

The man made use of it, then returned it, with thanks, remarking, as heturned to walk along with him:

"Glorious night, this!"

"Indeed it is--we seldom have so perfect an evening, " Ray heartilyresponded. 

"Quite a blow-out, too, " added Mr. Hamblin, who was somewhat given toslang. "Wellington is a generous old codger, and has done things up infine style. "

"Yes, I should say the ball has been a great success, at least everybodyhas appeared to enjoy it, " Ray politely replied. 

He was not very well pleased with the young man's enforced companionship;he would have much preferred to be left to his own reflections. 

"That is so, and there were lots of pretty girls on the floor, " Mr. Hamblin went on, in his free-and-easy style, "and the costumes wereexceptionally fine, too. By the way, " with a covert look at Ray, "thatMiss Montague is a remarkably beautiful girl. "

Ray felt a great inward shock go through him at this observation, and hewas on his guard in an instant. 

"Miss Montague!" he repeated, bending a keen glance upon his companion, "was there a _Miss_ Montague here this evening?"

"I beg ten thousand pardons, Palmer, " the young man broke forth, withwell-assumed confusion, "I don't know why I used that name, 'pon my wordI don't, unless it was because of association. I'd heard, you know, thatyou were attentive at one time to a Miss Montague, niece to that rich oldchap, Dinsmore, who died recently. The name I should have spoken, however, was Miss Richards, with whom I saw you talking a while ago. "

Louis Hamblin had at once suspected Mona's identity, upon discoveringthe lovers sitting together in the balcony. He was confirmed in thissuspicion when he followed them from the pavilion and observed theirtender parting in the hall, and so he had dogged Ray's steps, when hewent out for a walk, with the express purpose of pumping him, and hadthus tried to take him off his guard by speaking of Mona in the wayhe did. 

"Ah, yes, " Ray quietly responded, for he had seen through the trick atonce; "Miss Kitty McKenzie introduced me to Miss Richards early in theevening. She is an interesting girl, and she informs me that she is inthe employ of your aunt, Mrs. Montague. "

"Yes, she's seamstress, or something of that sort, " Mr. Hamblin returned, knocking the ashes from his cigar. "Deuced shame, isn't it, that apretty, lady-like girl like her should have to work at such a tradefor her living? I--I believe, " with a sly glance at Ray, "if I wasn'tdependent on Aunt Margie--that is, if I had a fortune of my own--I'd likenothing better than to marry the girl and put her in a position morebefitting her beauty. "

It was fortunate, for Mona's sake, that they were walking in the shadowof the tall spruces, or Louis Hamblin must have seen the look of wraththat kindled on Ray's face at the presumptuous speech. 

His first impulse was to hurl the conceited puppy to the ground fordaring to speak of his betrothed in that flippant manner; but such ademonstration he knew would involve serious consequences, and at oncebetray Mona's identity and make it impossible for her to learn anythingfrom Mrs. Montague regarding her mother's history. 

He had a terrible struggle within himself for a moment before he couldcontrol his anger sufficiently to make any reply. But after two or threevigorous puffs at his Havana, he managed to say, with some degree ofcalmness, though with an undertone of sarcasm, which he could notrestrain, and which did not fail to make itself felt:

"Really, Hamblin, your philanthropic spirit is a great credit to you, anddoubtless Miss Richards would appreciate it if she could know of yourdeep interest in her. But, if I am not mistaken, I have heard that youare contemplating matrimony in another quarter--that Miss McKenzie is thebright, particular star in your firmament; and she is really a charmingyoung lady in my estimation. "

"Oh, Kitty is well enough, " returned Mr. Hamblin, with a shrug of hisshoulders, "but a fellow doesn't quite relish having a girl thrust uponhim. Aunt Marg is set upon my marrying her, and it's human nature, youknow, never to want to do anything under compulsion, but to be inclinedto do just what you know you must not. Eh, Palmer?"

What could the fellow mean? Ray asked himself. Did he still suspect, inspite of his efforts to conceal the fact, who Ruth Richards really was?And did he mean to imply, by his moralizing, that he knew how Ray longedto thrash him for his insolence, and yet knew he must not, for fear ofcompromising the girl he loved?

Then, too, he could not help despising him for the slighting andinsulting way in which he had spoken of Kitty McKenzie, who, he felt, wasfar too true and lovely a girl to throw herself away upon such a flippantand unprincipled fellow. 

He knew that he could not tamely submit to much more conversation of sucha nature, so he merely replied in an absent tone. 

"Perhaps. " Then tossing away his cigar, he added: "I believe I heard aclock strike two a few moments ago. I think I shall go in and retire, asI have important business to attend to in the morning. "

"Sure enough! I heard something about the case of the diamond robberycoming off to-morrow, " responded Mr. Hamblin, in an eager tone. "That wasa queer affair throughout, wasn't it?--and the story about the Bentlywoman is another--it got into the papers in spite of all old Vanderheck'sefforts to bribe the reporters to silence. Do you credit the theory thatthe same woman was concerned in both swindles?"

"I hardly know what to think about it, " Ray answered. "We do not evenknow yet whether the cross belongs to us; but Mr. Rider is confidentthat Mrs. Bently, of the Chicago affair, and Mrs. Vanderbeck, or'heck'--whatever her name may be--are one and the same person. "

"Well, it is certain that Mrs. Vanderheck, of New York, who figures soconspicuously in society, has an enormous store of diamonds, however shecame by them, " Louis Hamblin remarked. 

Then, having reached the house, Ray bade him a brief good-night, and wentimmediately up to his room. 

He found his father there before him and walking up and down the floor inan unusually thoughtful mood. 

"Ah, Ray!" he said, as his son entered, "I have been waiting for you. Iwant to have a little talk with you before we go to bed. "

"About the examination of to-morrow?" Ray inquired, with a keen glance. 

"No--about--Ray, how would you like it if I should--well, to out with itat once--if I should marry again?" and the embarrassed old gentleman grewcrimson even to the bald spot upon his head, as he then blundered throughhis question. 

Ray sat down before he allowed himself to reply. 

Now that the crisis had really come, he found he had less strength tomeet it than he had anticipated. 

"Well, father, " he gravely said, after a moment of thought, "if you thinkthat a second marriage is essential to your comfort and happiness, Ishould not presume to oppose it. "

Mr. Palmer bent an anxious look upon his son. 

"And yet you do not exactly approve of the plan?" he observed. 

Ray looked up and frankly met his father's eye. 

He believed it would be better to speak his mind freely than to dissemblein any way. 

"I cannot fail to understand your meaning, for, of course, I have notbeen blind of late, " he remarked. "I have seen how agreeable the societyof Mrs. Montague is to you, and, judging from appearances, yours is noless so to her. I am bound to confess that she is a very handsome womanand very charming also in company. Still it is plain to be seen that sheis a thorough society woman, and the question in my mind is, would you, with your more quiet tastes and disposition, enjoy sharing the kind oflife that she leads?"

"But--I think--I hope that she would enjoy quiet home life and--mycompanionship, more than society, after our marriage, " Mr. Palmerremarked, with some confusion. 

Ray smiled slightly, for he saw that his father was very far gone, and hedoubted if any argument would convince him that the fascinating widowwould not be satisfied to settle down to the quieter joys of domesticlife, even after she had succeeded in capturing the wealthy diamondmerchant. 

Still he resolved that he would say all that he had to say now, and thenleave the matter with him to decide as his heart and judgment dictated. 

"I hope that you will not deceive yourself, father, " he said. "Mrs. Montague's nature is one that craves excitement and admiration, and shehas been so long accustomed to this kind of life I imagine it would beimpossible for her to resign it, cheerfully, for any one. Of course Iknow but very little of her personally, and I do not wish to judge herunfairly; but I should be very sorry to have you take any step which youwould be likely to hereafter regret. "

Mr. Palmer looked grave. His judgment, his common sense told him thatRay was right; that the gay woman of the world would not be willing tosacrifice her pleasures to his wishes, would never meet the wants of hismore quiet and home-loving nature. 

But he had been blinded and captivated by Mrs. Montague's wiles andpreference for his society; he had, in fact, been led on so far thathe saw no way of maintaining his dignity and honor except by makingher a formal offer of his hand. 

"You have no personal objection to her, I hope, Ray, " he said, withoutreplying to his remarks. "I assure you, " he added, "the change shall notaffect your prospects in any way. I will make handsome settlements uponyou, and turn over the business to you before I take any important step. "

"Thank you, sir, " Ray heartily responded, but realizing that the matterwas as good as settled, and it would be useless to discuss it anyfurther. "Of course I should not feel at liberty to oppose you, were Iso inclined, in a matter which concerns you so exclusively; as I saidbefore, if you feel that such an alliance will be for your comfort andhappiness, I would not wish to lay any obstacle in your way. "

"You are very good, my son, " Mr. Palmer returned, and yet he felt farfrom comfortable over the very doubtful approbation of his choice. 

He had made up his mind to marry Mrs. Montague; he had indeed beenalmost upon the point of offering himself to her, just as Ray and Monahad passed through the drawing-room, when he had suddenly resolvedto wait and consult his son, before taking the irrevocable step. Hefelt that he owed it to him to do so, for they had been good friendsand confidants for so many years. 

"I must be looking out for number one, you know, " he added, trying tospeak playfully; "for you will be getting married yourself one of thesedays, and the old home would be very lonely without you. "

Ray wondered, with a twinge of bitterness, if his father could haveforgotten how often he had told him that he "could never bear to beseparated from him, and that when he found a wife to suit him, hemust bring her home to brighten up the house and help to take care ofhim. "

Now, it was evident, from what he had just said, that he would beexpected to make a home for himself and his bride elsewhere. 

"I wish you could find the girl you love, Ray, " he went on, wistfully, as he did not reply. "It is rather hard on you that she should havedisappeared so unaccountably. By the way, who was that lovely maidenwith you a while ago?"

"She was introduced to me as Miss Richards, " Ray responded, evasively, and flushing slightly. 

Mr. Palmer looked up, surprised. 

"So it was!" he exclaimed; "but I did not recognize her; and yet Ithought there was something familiar about her. I suppose it was becauseshe was in evening dress. Well, she is a charming little girl, anyhow. I only hope your Mona is as pretty, and that you'll find her soon. Butsuppose we go to bed, " he said, with a weary sigh; "I'm tired, and wemust be off early to-morrow morning. "

The conclusion of this story, and what fortunes befell Mona, are fullytold in the sequel to this volume entitled "True Love's Reward. "