"Ruth Richards," she repeated to herself. "So this is how she disappeared so suddenly out of the knowledge of everybody. A common waiting-maid, and too proud to sail under her own name! I wonder if she is a relative of Mrs. Montague? If she is, perhaps that lady objected to having it known, and so called her Ruth Richards. Can it be possible that Ray Palmer is attentive to her _now_? Does he know that she is sailing under false colors? 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 evening had been entirely spoiled by the little scene which she had just witnessed.

After Ray left Mona he drew his outside coat on over his evening dress and went out into the grounds for a quiet smoke and to think, for he felt troubled and nervous.

His father's flush and embarra.s.sment, as he caught his eye while pa.s.sing through the drawing-room, were a revelation to him.

Mona had spoken to him of his attentions to Mrs. Montague, and he had also observed them, since coming to Hazeldean, but he had hoped that they were only temporary, and would not amount to anything serious.

But to-night it was only too evident that the beautiful and dashing widow had acquired a strong influence over his father, and he began to fear that he was seriously contemplating making her his wife.

He was startled and shocked--not because of any unreasonable jealousy, or a selfish aversion to the thought of having his father take a congenial companion into his home; but he feared she was not a woman to make him happy. She was gay and worldly; she lived for and in the excitement of society, while Mr. Palmer was more quiet and domestic in his tastes.

Besides, he had somehow became imbued with the idea that she was lacking in principle. Perhaps what Mona had told him about her, in connection with her mother's history, might have given him this impression; but, whatever had caused it, he shrank with the greatest repugnance from having her become the wife of his father.

Still he felt helpless to prevent it; he experienced great delicacy about making any objections if his father should intimate a wish to change his condition, and he could readily see that by so doing he would not only deeply 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 that sent 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 the full moon was sailing in matchless majesty through the star-studded vault above, while the brilliantly lighted house and park, with the entrancing music from the pavilion floating out to him on the still air, added their charm to the scene.

Ray lighted his cigar and strolled down the avenue, his heart filled with conflicting 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 the avenue, not far from the main road, and as Ray, deeply absorbed in his own thoughts, was pa.s.sing these, a figure suddenly stepped out from among them and accosted him.

It was Louis Hamblin.

"Ah, Palmer," he said, affably, "out for a smoke? Give me a light, will you?"

"Certainly," Ray responded, cordially, and politely extended his cigar to him.

The man made use of it, then returned it, with thanks, remarking, as he turned to walk along with him:

"Glorious night, this!"

"Indeed it is--we seldom have so perfect an evening," Ray heartily responded.

"Quite a blow-out, too," added Mr. Hamblin, who was somewhat given to slang. "Wellington is a generous old codger, and has done things up in fine style."

"Yes, I should say the ball has been a great success, at least everybody has 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 were exceptionally fine, too. By the way," with a covert look at Ray, "that Miss Montague is a remarkably beautiful girl."

Ray felt a great inward shock go through him at this observation, and he was 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, with well-a.s.sumed confusion, "I don't know why I used that name, 'pon my word I don't, unless it was because of a.s.sociation. I'd heard, you know, that you were attentive at one time to a Miss Montague, niece to that rich old chap, 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 ident.i.ty, upon discovering the lovers sitting together in the balcony. He was confirmed in this suspicion when he followed them from the pavilion and observed their tender parting in the hall, and so he had dogged Ray's steps, when he went out for a walk, with the express purpose of pumping him, and had thus tried to take him off his guard by speaking of Mona in the way he did.

"Ah, yes," Ray quietly responded, for he had seen through the trick at once; "Miss Kitty McKenzie introduced me to Miss Richards early in the evening. She is an interesting girl, and she informs me that she is in the 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 a pretty, lady-like girl like her should have to work at such a trade for her living? I--I believe," with a sly glance at Ray, "if I wasn't dependent on Aunt Margie--that is, if I had a fortune of my own--I'd like nothing better than to marry the girl and put her in a position more befitting her beauty."

It was fortunate, for Mona's sake, that they were walking in the shadow of the tall spruces, or Louis Hamblin must have seen the look of wrath that kindled on Ray's face at the presumptuous speech.

His first impulse was to hurl the conceited puppy to the ground for daring to speak of his betrothed in that flippant manner; but such a demonstration he knew would involve serious consequences, and at once betray Mona's ident.i.ty and make it impossible for her to learn anything from Mrs. Montague regarding her mother's history.

He had a terrible struggle within himself for a moment before he could control his anger sufficiently to make any reply. But after two or three vigorous puffs at his Havana, he managed to say, with some degree of calmness, though with an undertone of sarcasm, which he could not restrain, and which did not fail to make itself felt:

"Really, Hamblin, your philanthropic spirit is a great credit to you, and doubtless Miss Richards would appreciate it if she could know of your deep interest in her. But, if I am not mistaken, I have heard that you are contemplating matrimony in another quarter--that Miss McKenzie is the bright, particular star in your firmament; and she is really a charming young lady in my estimation."

"Oh, Kitty is well enough," returned Mr. Hamblin, with a shrug of his shoulders, "but a fellow doesn't quite relish having a girl thrust upon him. Aunt Marg is set upon my marrying her, and it's human nature, you know, never to want to do anything under compulsion, but to be inclined to do just what you know you must not. Eh, Palmer?"

What could the fellow mean? Ray asked himself. Did he still suspect, in spite 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 longed to thrash him for his insolence, and yet knew he must not, for fear of compromising the girl he loved?

Then, too, he could not help despising him for the slighting and insulting way in which he had spoken of Kitty McKenzie, who, he felt, was far too true and lovely a girl to throw herself away upon such a flippant and unprincipled fellow.

He knew that he could not tamely submit to much more conversation of such a nature, so he merely replied in an absent tone.

"Perhaps." Then tossing away his cigar, he added: "I believe I heard a clock strike two a few moments ago. I think I shall go in and retire, as I have important business to attend to in the morning."

"Sure enough! I heard something about the case of the diamond robbery coming off to-morrow," responded Mr. Hamblin, in an eager tone. "That was a queer affair throughout, wasn't it?--and the story about the Bently woman is another--it got into the papers in spite of all old Vanderheck's efforts to bribe the reporters to silence. Do you credit the theory that the same woman was concerned in both swindles?"

"I hardly know what to think about it," Ray answered. "We do not even know yet whether the cross belongs to us; but Mr. Rider is confident that 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 so conspicuously in society, has an enormous store of diamonds, however she came by them," Louis Hamblin remarked.

Then, having reached the house, Ray bade him a brief good-night, and went immediately up to his room.

He found his father there before him and walking up and down the floor in an unusually thoughtful mood.

"Ah, Ray!" he said, as his son entered, "I have been waiting for you. I want 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 it at once--if I should marry again?" and the embarra.s.sed old gentleman grew crimson even to the bald spot upon his head, as he then blundered through his question.

Ray sat down before he allowed himself to reply.

Now that the crisis had really come, he found he had less strength to meet it than he had antic.i.p.ated.

"Well, father," he gravely said, after a moment of thought, "if you think that a second marriage is essential to your comfort and happiness, I should not presume to oppose it."