"Nonsense," retorted her companion, again interrupting her; "don't be a goose, Ruth! I want you with me, and we will not discuss the point any further."

Mona hesitated a moment, then turned away, but with a dignity which warned Mrs. Montague that it might not be well to enforce her commands too rigorously, or she might rebel outright.

Mona went down to the dining-room, but to her great relief received no disagreeable attentions from Mr. Hamblin, who sat on the right, while her seat was on the left of his aunt. He did not address her during the meal, except to ascertain if she was properly waited upon by the servants.

Afterward they went for a drive out on the sh.e.l.l road, which proved to be really delightful, for the city was in its prime, while, rain having fallen early in the day, the streets were not in the least dusty.

Mrs. Montague and Louis monopolized the conversation, thus leaving Mona free to look around about her.

The only thing that occurred to annoy her was on their return to the hotel. Louis, in a.s.sisting her to alight, held her hand in a close, lingering clasp for a moment, and, looking admiringly into her eyes, remarked, in a low tone:

"I hope you have enjoyed your drive, Miss--Richards."

What could he mean, Mona asked herself, by that significant pause before and that emphasis on her name?

She forcibly wrenched her hand from his, and deigning him no reply, walked with uplifted head into the hotel, and up to her own room.

The next day she politely, but firmly, declined to go out driving, and remained by herself to write a long letter to Ray; thus she avoided the hated companionship of the man, who became more and more odious to her.

The third evening after their arrival Mrs. Montague went to a concert with some people whose acquaintance she had made while on the steamer, and Mona congratulated herself that she could have a long quiet evening in which to read a book in which she had become deeply interested.

She had not a thought of being interrupted, for she supposed that Louis had accompanied his aunt, and she was sitting contentedly by the table in Mrs. Montague's private parlor, when she heard the door behind her open and close.

She looked up surprised, but the expression was quickly succeeded by one of dismay when she saw Louis Hamblin advancing toward her.

She arose, regarding him with cold displeasure.

He bowed politely as he remarked:

"Do not rise. I simply came to get some letters that Aunt Margie wished me to mail for her."

Mona resumed her seat, greatly relieved at this a.s.surance, and went on with her reading, while the young man took up his aunt's writing-pad, which lay upon the table, as if to search for the letters.

He took out a couple and slipped them into his pocket; then selecting a pen, began himself to write.

Mona felt very uncomfortable, sitting there alone with him, but she kept hoping that he would soon go out again, and so went on with her reading.

Presently, however, he laid down his pen, and, glancing across the table at her, asked:

"What book have you that is so interesting?"

"The Senator's Bride,'" Mona briefly responded.

"Ah! I have never read it. What do you think of it?"

"It is quite entertaining," was the brief, cold reply.

"Pray, do not be so cold and proud--so exceedingly laconic," the young man said, with a smile, which was intended to be persuasive.

Instantly the young girl arose again, stately and frigid as an iceberg.

She attempted to pa.s.s him and go to her own room, but he threw out his hand, seized her arm, and stopped her.

"_Please_ do not go!" he urged, in an imploring tone. "I have something which I want very much to say to you."

Mona's blood began to boil, and her eyes flashed dangerously at his presumption in daring to touch her.

She was too proud to struggle with him, and she could not shake off his hold upon her arm.

"Release me, Mr. Hamblin!" she said, in ominously quiet tones.

"Nay, _do_ not treat me so!" he pleaded. "Be kind to me for once, and let me open my heart to you."

Her red lips curled.

"_Will_ you let me pa.s.s?" she icily demanded.

He colored hotly at her tone; a flash of anger gleamed in his eyes.

"_No_. Be seated, _Miss Mona Montague_; I have something important to say to you," he said, in a tone that struck terror to her heart, while the utterance of her real name so startled and unnerved her that, almost involuntarily, she sank back into her chair, her face as white as her handkerchief, and trembling in every limb.

"Ah! that surprises you, doesn't it?" he remarked, with a smile of triumph; "and now I imagine you will be more tractable."

"What do you mean?" demanded Mona, recovering her composure somewhat, and determined not to commit herself, if she could avoid it.

"What do I mean?" he repeated, with a light laugh. "I mean to have a little private and serious conversation with Miss Mona Montague; and when I have finished, I do not believe that she will treat me quite so cavalierly as she has been doing of late."

"I do not wish to hold any conversation with you, Mr. Hamblin," Mona began, haughtily.

"Perhaps not, but you will, nevertheless," he interposed; "and, let me tell you, to begin with, it will be useless for you to ignore the name by which I have addressed you. I have discovered your ident.i.ty in spite of your clever efforts to represent some one else--or rather to conceal your personality. I know that you are Mona Montague, the daughter of my aunt's husband and a girl named Mona Forester--"

"Stay!" cried Mona, starting again to her feet, her eyes blazing. "I will not hear my mother spoken of with any disrespect."

"I beg your pardon; I had no intention of wounding you thus," said the young man, regretfully, and flushing. "I simply wished you to understand that I had discovered your ident.i.ty; and since you have now virtually acknowledged it, by a.s.serting that Mona Forester was your mother, I beg you will be reasonable, and talk the matter over calmly with me, and hear what I have to propose to you."

Mona sank weakly back.

She saw that it would be worse than useless to deny what he had a.s.serted; she had indeed betrayed and acknowledged too much for that.

"Very well. I will listen to what you wish to say, but be kind enough to be brief, for I have no desire to prolong this interview beyond what is absolutely necessary for your purpose," she said, with freezing dignity.

"Well, then," Louis Hamblin began, "I have known who you were ever since you came into Aunt Margie's house as a seamstress."

Then he went on to explain how he learned it, and Mona, remembering the incident but too well, saw that it would be best to quietly accept the fact of his knowledge.

"Does Mrs. Montague also know?" she asked, with breathless eagerness.

"She suspected you at first," he evasively answered, "but you so diplomatically replied to her questions--you were so self-possessed under all circ.u.mstances, and especially so when one day you found a picture of your mother, that she was forced to believe your strange resemblance to Mona Forester only a coincidence."