She had turned the lace away in the shape of a V at her throat, and now finished it by pinning to her corsage the cl.u.s.ter of white violets which she 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 not matter much if she wore none, and her small white hands, with their rose-tinted finger-tips, were by no means unsightly objects.

She was very happy and light-hearted, as she turned for one last look in her mirror before leaving her room.

She smiled involuntarily at her own loveliness, and gave a gay little nod at the charming reflection as she turned away.

Then she went out and softly down a back stair-way to avoid the crowds of people who were going up and down the front way.

But, on reaching the lower floor, she was obliged to cross the main hall and drawing-room in order to reach the pavilion, which Mr. Wellington had caused to be erected outside on the lawn for dancing, and which was connected with the house by a covered pa.s.sage leading from one of the long windows of the drawing-room.

Mona stood in the doorway a moment, feeling slightly embarra.s.sed at the thought 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 the ball?"

Mona turned and smiled into the bright face of Kitty McKenzie, who was radiant 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 shall enjoy 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 a little 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 would rather not."

"No, I should not care to dance to-night," Mona returned, and then she became conscious that a familiar form was approaching the spot where they stood.

It was not an easy matter for her to keep back her color as Ray drew near, and try to appear as if she had never seen him before. She knew that 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, the lights, indeed _all_ the decorations?"

"They are, truly, Miss McKenzie; and," he added, with a merry smile, as he glanced at her bright face and figure, and then turned his gaze upon Mona, "there are some other lovely adornments about the rooms, besides those 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 coquettish courtesy; "and," turning to Mona, "perhaps you would like an introduction to 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 nerves that made the violets upon her bosom quiver, as if a breath of wind had swept over them.

She barely had time to acknowledge the presentation, however, when an icy voice behind her remarked:

"Miss Richards, Mr. Wellington is looking for you to conduct you to your seat in the balcony."

Turning, Mona saw Mrs. Montague regarding her with a look of cold displeasure, and she knew that she must have witnessed her introduction to Ray, and disapproved of it.

But she was secretly glad that she had been so near, for now she could feel free to recognize her lover whenever they met, without the fear of being 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 in search of that gentleman. "Ah! I see him yonder--Miss Richards, allow me to conduct you to him."

He offered his arm in a ceremonious way, as any new acquaintance might have done, and led her slowly toward the spot where Mr. Wellington was standing, 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 pretty to appear in public with me; any one would suppose her to be an equal,"

she muttered, irritably. "Who would have believed," she added, "that she could have gotten herself up in that bewitching style, with only a few bits of white ribbon and not a single ornament! I wonder where she got her violets? She has exquisite taste, anyhow."

But Ray and Mona were unconscious of these jealous remarks. They were oblivious of everything just then, except the presence of each other and the fortunate circ.u.mstances which had thrown them together.

"My darling," Ray said, under his breath, "that was very cleverly managed, was it not? Don't you think I am quite a tactician? I caught sight of you the moment you appeared; then that bright fairy, Kitty McKenzie, arrived upon the scene, and I knew that my opportunity had come."

"But you almost took my breath away, Ray, when you bore me off so unceremoniously before Mrs. Montague's disapproving eyes," Mona murmured in response.

"Unceremonious!" the young man retorted, with a.s.sumed surprise, and a roguish smile. "Why, I thought I was excessively formal."

"Yes, in your manner to me; but you did not ask the lady's permission to conduct me to the host."

"How was I supposed to know that Miss Richards, to whom I had just been introduced, was not a guest as well as the more gorgeous, but less lovely, Mrs. Montague?" questioned the young lover, lightly. "But," he continued, with a sigh, "I cannot bear this sort of thing a great while.

When I see you looking like some beautiful young G.o.ddess, I find it very difficult to a.s.sume an indifferent exterior. I nearly forgot myself a moment ago."

"Perhaps it would have been better if I had remained quietly in my own room," Mona archly returned, as she gave him a mischievous glance out of her bright eyes.

He drew the hand that lay on his arm close to his side with a fond pressure.

"Indeed, no!" he said, tenderly; "it is better to meet you thus than not at all. But must I give you up to Mr. Wellington?" he continued, in a wistful tone, as they drew near the gentleman. "No; I will ask him to direct me to the balcony, and I will conduct you there myself."

"Ah, Miss Richards, I have been looking for you," Mr. Wellington remarked, as his eye fell upon the fair girl. "It is almost time for the opening promenade, and you ought to be in your seat, so as not to miss anything. But wait a moment; I must speak to this gentleman first," he concluded, as some one approached him.

"Pray, Mr. Wellington, since you are so engaged, let me conduct Miss Richards to the balcony," Ray here interposed, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

Mr. Wellington, with a look of relief, readily a.s.sented to the proposition, and Ray and his companion were thus permitted to enjoy a little more of each other's society.

They easily found their way to the balcony, where Ray secured a good position for his _fiancee_.

"I suppose I will have to leave you now," he whispered in her ear; "I am engaged to Miss Wellington for the promenade; but, by and by, Mona, I shall steal away and come to you again."

"Do not leave the dancing on my account, Ray," Mona pleaded; "it is all so bright and lovely down there. I know you will enjoy it."

"I should, if I could have you with me," he interrupted, fondly; "but, as I cannot, I would much prefer to remain quietly here with you--only that would not do, I suppose."

"No, indeed," she returned, decidedly. "Now you _must_ go, for the orchestra is beginning to play."

He left her, with a fond hand-clasp that brought a happy smile to her red lips, 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, and she would not have cared to be recognized by them--or rather snubbed by them.