It is impossible to describe the venom and hatred that were concentrated in the voice of this beautiful woman, as she thus reviewed this portion of her history, which, as can plainly be seen, had left a keen sting in her heart, notwithstanding her boasted victory over her rival.

It did not seem possible that she could be the same person, with her dark, revengeful face, her contracted brow, fiercely gleaming eyes, and that cruel, bitter curl upon her lips, who, in all the glory of her beauty and powers of fascination, had been the centre of attraction in Alexander Merrill's elegant residence less than two hours previous.

It almost seemed as if she must be possessed of a dual nature, similar to 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 with whom she came in contact; now, she was transformed into a beautiful fiend, with a nature of spite and fury, and cruel revenge written upon every delicate feature.

She sat there in the glow of the firelight until the gilded clock on the mantel chimed the hour of two; then, with pa.s.sion and pain showing themselves 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 was so very different from the almost charmed existence which she had hitherto led, and had it not been for her grief for her uncle and on account of Ray's seeming neglect and indifference, she would not have been unhappy in her position.

Mrs. Montague was not unreasonable--she did not overwork her, although there was always plenty of sewing to be done. She rather enjoyed being busy, on the whole, while she experienced a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that she could be independent; she even felt something of pride, in thus rising above the adverse circ.u.mstances that had so unexpectedly overtaken her.

She was very careful about her health, for she knew that this sudden change from her previous active care-free life to such sedentary habits, must be a great tax upon her const.i.tution, and so she persisted in taking exercise in the open air every day, although often she would have preferred to remain in the house.

A couple of days after her encounter with Mr. Louis Hamblin upon the steps of Mrs. Montague's residence, she was returning from her usual stroll, when the young man again suddenly appeared around the corner of a street she was pa.s.sing, and almost ran into her.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Richards," he exclaimed, stopping short, and regarding her with apparent surprise, while he lifted his hat to her with great politeness, "I hope I did not startle you."

"Oh, no; and you are quite excusable," Mona responded, but somewhat astonished that he should address her by her name; but she imagined that he 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 walk with you."

Mona would have preferred to proceed on her way alone, but she had not quite the courage to say so, since he appeared so courteous, so she made no reply at all.

The young man took her silence for consent, and, falling into step with her, began chatting as freely as if they had been old acquaintances.

His manner was very respectful, while there was nothing in what he said to which she could in the least object--indeed, she found him rather entertaining at first, and almost forgot, for the time, that she was Ruth Richards, the seamstress, instead of Mona Montague, the heiress, and social 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 hardly spoken. He desired to hear her talk, that he might judge of her mental caliber.

"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. "Do your 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 that you were in mourning--I am very sorry."

Mona had heard so few words of sympathy of late that she came near losing her 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 curious glance upon her. "I am sure you have not always lived as you are living now; it must be very hard to sit and sew all day. I hope you find my aunt considerate, Miss Richards."

Mona was astonished at this last remark which she thought was in very bad taste, and she turned a cold, questioning glance upon him.

"If at any time you should not," he went on, flippantly, "just let me know, Miss Richards, and I will see what I can do for you, for I have considerable influence with Aunt Marg."

Mona looked amazed, and wondered what he could mean by speaking in such a way of Mrs. Montague.

He had made a grand mistake in a.s.suming that she should make a confidant of him--an entire stranger--in the event of her being overworked by his aunt.

"Mrs. Montague has been very good," she said, icily, and drawing her slight, 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 embarra.s.sment, although he had seldom had such a rebuff, but with anger and chagrin that a poor sewing-girl whom he had seen fit to patronize, should dare to give him such a set-back.

But he had no intentions of being beaten at his game, and so curbed his ire for the time.

"Pardon me," he humbly responded, "I did not mean to offend you nor to interfere, 'pon my word I didn't; only you seem so delicate and unfit for such a life; and fashionable ladies have such oceans of work to be done that they sometimes crowd their help--I--"

"Excuse me--I must leave you here; my work is waiting for me," Mona interposed, coldly, and cutting him short as they reached Mrs. Montague's residence.

She ran lightly up the steps and rang the bell before he could offer to admit 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 she carried herself with so much hauteur that he knew she resented his presumptuous familiarity.

"Hoity toity!" he muttered, with a crimson face; "our pretty seamstress hath the manner of a princess! One would almost suppose that she had been born and bred in a palace and was the mistress of millions, instead of being only a common working-girl and dependent upon the skill of her own dainty fingers for her living. But she is wonderfully interesting, aside from her beauty, and I must change my tactics or I shall never get into her good graces. Who would have dreamed that she would have the sense to resent 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 tiny vase filled with choice flowers upon her table.

She suspected that Mr. Hamblin might have been the donor, and she was annoyed that he should presume to take such a liberty upon so slight an acquaintance. Still, she was not sure that he had put them there, and the pretty things made a bright spot in the room, while their fragrance was not without its charm for her; so she did enjoy them in a measure.

"Where did you get your flowers, Ruth?" Mrs. Montague inquired, when she came in later to inquire regarding a wrap that was being mended, and espied them.

"My flowers!" Mona said, determined that she would not claim them; "they are not mine, and I do not know who put them here. I found them on the table when I came down this morning."

Mrs. Montague frowned, but said nothing more.

She suspected who had made the floral offering, however, and secretly resolved that Louis should not be guilty of continuing such attentions to her seamstress.

She gave orders to Mary to go into the sewing-room every morning before breakfast, and if she found flowers there to take them down to the dining-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. Louis Hamblin, observing the disposition of his expensive gifts, imagined that the pretty seamstress herself had taken this way to reject them.

The measure angered him, and only made him more resolute to conquer Mona's indifference and pride.

"By Jove!" he said to himself, as he gazed frowningly upon the discarded blossoms, "I believe I am really becoming interested in the proud little beauty, and I must find some other way to bring her around. It is evident that she recognizes the social distance between us, and wishes me to understand it. Perhaps, however, with a little judicious coaxing of a different 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 manner she plainly indicated by her coldness and reserve that she did not care to cultivate Mr. Hamblin's acquaintance.

This opposition to his wishes only made him the more persistent, and added zest to his pursuit of her.