The girl's exquisite beauty and grace--her high-bred self-possession and polished manner--impressed him as he had never been impressed before, even by the society girls whom he was in the habit of meeting, and Kitty McKenzie's charms grew pale and dim beside the brighter and more perfect loveliness of this dainty sewing-girl.

When Mona found that the young man persisted in following her and forcing his society upon her, she changed the time of her daily walk to an hour when she knew he would be down town, and she also took care to go in different 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, and beaming with smiles.

"Ruth, I am going to ask a great favor of you," she said: "I wonder if you will oblige me."

"Certainly, Mrs. Montague, I shall be very glad to do so, if it is within my power," Mona readily responded.

"Well, then," continued the lady, "I am invited to spend a week at the residence of a friend who lives near Rhinebeck, a little way up the Hudson. Quite a party are going also, and great preparations have been made for us. In fact, it is to be a sort of carnival, on a small scale, and is to wind up with a grand ball. Now, I want you to go with me, Ruth, to help arrange my different costumes, and to act as a kind of 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 might meet people whom she had known and a.s.sociated with before her uncle died.

She dreaded to be ignored or treated rudely by old acquaintances. She could not forget her recent experience at Macy's.

But she reasoned that she might not see any one whom she knew; she had never met Mrs. Montague in society, and her circle of friends might be entirely different from those with whom she had mingled. She longed for a respite from ceaseless st.i.tching, and for some change of scene, and she finally resolved to go.

"Why, yes, I am perfectly willing to attend you if you wish," she said at last.

"Thank you--you have relieved my mind of quite a burden, for I feared you might decline my request," Mrs. Montague returned, and then went away to do her packing.

They were to leave New York that afternoon, but Mona had not once thought that Louis Hamblin would be likely to be one of the party, until he joined Mrs. Montague at the station.

There were a dozen or fifteen people in the party, and the young man was devotedly attentive to a pretty dark-eyed girl, who was addressed as Kitty McKenzie.

His eyes lighted with a flash of pleasure, however, the moment he caught sight of Mona, although he betrayed no other sign that he had ever seen her before.

The fair girl flushed with indignation at this slight.

Not because she was at all anxious to have him take notice of her, but because he failed to treat her, in the presence of his friends and social equals, with the courtesy which he had always been so eager to show her elsewhere.

It was a very gay party, and, as a drawing-room car had been chartered for their especial use, there was nothing to impose any restraint upon them, and mirth and pleasure reigned.

Two-thirds of the company were young people, and Kitty McKenzie was one of the merriest of the group, and apparently a great favorite, while it could be readily seen that the attentions of Louis Hamblin were very acceptable 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 in waiting 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 imposing mansion stood in the middle of a beautiful park. The interior of the dwelling was in perfect keeping with its exterior--luxury and beauty prevailed on every hand, and it was really an ideal place in which to entertain a numerous company.

The wide, mammoth hall ran the whole length of the house, while numerous rooms opened into it, with wide doors sliding upward, so that almost the whole of the lower floor could be made into one grand room. The floors were of hard wood, and polished to the last degree of brightness, and were, as Kitty McKenzie merrily remarked, while she executed a gay pirouette on entering, "just capital for dancing."

The upper stories were equally s.p.a.cious, and luxuriously furnished--it really seemed like a great hotel, only far more home-like and comfortable.

The guests were soon a.s.signed to their apartments, and Mona was gratified to find that, instead of being consigned to some remote corner of the great house, she had a cozy room opening directly into the one occupied by Mrs. Montague.

CHAPTER XV.

A GAY COMPANY AT HAZELDEAN.

The week that followed was one never to be forgotten. Such feasting and merry-making, such excursions, and card parties, and dancing parties Mona had never witnessed.

She had read of such scenes occurring in the great manor-houses of England, and had often thought that she should like to witness something of the kind; but she did not imagine that Americans had yet attained the art of displaying such magnificent hospitality. It was a carnival, indeed, from the evening of their arrival until the morning of their departure.

It was the month of February, there was no snow on the ground, and the weather was very mild and more like early spring, than winter, so that every morning there was planned an excursion of some kind--either a drive or a canter on horseback to different points of interest in that picturesque section, which everybody appeared to enjoy as well as if all nature had been at the height of its glory in midsummer.

Mona, of course, was never invited to join these excursions; she was regarded as nothing but a seamstress or a maid, and most of the company would have scorned the idea of thus a.s.sociating with her upon equal terms.

Her heart often swelled with bitter pain as she watched a gay cavalcade ride away through the park, for she dearly loved horseback riding, and she well knew that six months previous she would have been most cordially welcomed by every member of that merry company.

She wondered what had become of her pretty saddle-horse, Jet, and her uncle's proud steed, Banquo, and sighed regretfully as she reviewed the happy past, when they four--for the horses had seemed almost human--had roamed over the country together. She sometimes even longed to be back in New York among her piles of sewing, for she had not enough to do now to occupy her time, and it often hung heavily on her hands, thus allowing painful memories to depress her.

The third morning after their arrival, just as a gay party was on the point of starting off, Mona, being at liberty, thought she would slip down to the library and try to find an entertaining book to pa.s.s away the long hours before lunch.

She was half-way down stairs, when Kitty McKenzie came running breathlessly back, looking flushed and exceedingly disappointed over something.

"Oh, dear!" she cried, as she was pa.s.sing Mona; "I tripped in my riding-habit, and have ripped the facing so badly that I must change it and go in the carriage with mamma. It is too bad, for I had the loveliest pony to ride."

"Have you ripped it too badly to have it repaired?" Mona asked, sorry to have the gay girl deprived of her coveted pleasure.

"Yes, for it takes me forever to mend anything. I am a wretched bungler with my needle," she confessed, with engaging frankness, but with a conscious blush.

"Let me see it," and Mona stooped to examine the rip. "This is not so bad, after all," she continued, cheerfully. "Just come to my room, and I will catch it up for you; I can do it in less time than it would take to change your dress."

"_Can_ you? Oh, that will be so good of you!" and, delighted that she was not to be deprived of her ride, Miss Kitty followed Mona, with a bright face and an eager step.

Five minutes sufficed for our young seamstress to make the garment wearable, and then she told Miss McKenzie that if she would bring the habit 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 folds into place, then, with a sudden impulse and a sympathetic look into the fair face of the seamstress, she added: "What a pity it is that you have to stay here all by yourself, while the rest of us are having such delightful times! Why cannot you come with us, Miss Richards? I will make mamma 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 cannot go," Mona answered, with a flush, but touched that the girl should wish her to share her pleasures.

"I am sure you would enjoy it, for you are young, and it is too bad to be obliged to stay indoors this delightful weather, and I imagine, if the truth were known, you could be as gay as anybody, while truly," with an arch, winsome glance, "I believe you are the prettiest girl here. Do you know how to dance?"

"Yes."

"Then I think I can manage it--if you would like it, Miss Richards--to have 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 disposed as yourself."