RAY MAKES AN IMPORTANT DISCOVERY.
Mona hastened to her own chamber, after leaving Mrs. Montague, where she
hastily exchanged her house dress for a street costume, and then started
out upon her errands.
She had a great deal to think of in connection with her recent
conversation with Mrs. Montague, but, although much had been said that
had annoyed her greatly, on the whole she had been inspired with fresh
hope that the mystery enshrouding her mother's life would eventually be
solved.
She therefore quickly recovered her spirits, and her face was bright and
animated as she tripped away to catch the car at the corner of the
street.
She had several errands to do, and she very much enjoyed the freedom of
running about to the different stores, to buy the pretty things regarding
which Mrs. Montague had discovered she possessed excellent taste and
judgment.
She had nearly completed her purchases--all but some lace, which that
lady wished to add to the ravishing tea-gown which was to be worn that
evening, and to get this she would have to pass Mr. Palmer's jewelry
store.
Her heart beat fast as she drew near it, for she had been hoping all the
way down town that she might see Ray and have a few minutes' chat with
him.
She glanced in at the large show-window, as she went slowly by, and,
fortunately, Ray was standing quite near, behind the counter, talking
with a customer.
He caught sight of her instantly, but indicated it only by a quick flash
of the eyes, and a grave bow, and quietly continued his conversation.
Mona knew, however, that having seen her, he would seek her at the
earliest possible moment, and so slowly sauntered on, looking in at
the different windows which she passed.
It was not long until she caught the sound of a quick step behind her,
and the next moment a firm, strong hand clasped hers, while a pair of
fond, true eyes looked the delight which her lover experienced at the
unexpected meeting.
"My darling!--I was thinking of you the very moment you passed, and
wishing that I could see you. I have something very important to tell
you," he said, eagerly, but his fine face clouded as he uttered these
last words.
"It is something that troubles you, I am sure, Ray," said Mona, who was
quick to interpret his every expression.
"Yes, it is--I am free to confess," he admitted, then added: "Come in
here with me--there will not be many people about at this hour--where we
can talk more freely, and I will tell you all about it."
They were passing the Hoffman House at that moment, and the young man led
the way inside the _café_.
They proceeded to a table in a quiet corner, where, behind some palms and
tall ferns, they would not be likely to be observed, and then gave an
order for a tempting lunch, the preparation of which would require some
time.
While waiting for it, Ray confided his trouble to Mona.
"My father is really going to marry Mrs. Montague," was the somewhat
abrupt communication which he made with pale lips and troubled brow.
"I have known it for some time, but did not like to speak of it to you,"
Mona quietly replied.
"You have known it for some time?" Ray exclaimed. "For how long, pray?"
"Ever since we were at Hazeldean."
"Impossible! for my father did not make his proposal until after our
return to New York."
"But she certainly told me the night of the ball, when she came up stairs
to retire, that she expected to marry Mr. Palmer," Mona returned, and
flushing at the memory of that conversation, which, however, she had been
too proud to repeat to her lover.
"Well, she may have expected to marry him, and I imagine that his own
mind was pretty well made up at that time," said Ray, gloomily, "but the
matter was not settled until after our return, as I said before, and the
engagement is to be formally announced this afternoon at the high-tea
given by Mrs. Montague."
Ah! this explained to Mona what had puzzled her just before leaving
home--why Mrs. Montague had once or twice appeared embarrassed during
their conversation, why she had abruptly paused in the midst of that last
sentence, and why, too, she had been so unusually particular about her
personal appearance for a home-reception.
She mentioned these circumstances to Ray, and asked, in conclusion, if he
were also invited to the high-tea.
"Yes; but, really, I am so heart-sick over the affair I feel as
if I cannot go. I am utterly at a loss to understand this strange
infatuation," he continued, with a heavy sigh. "My father, until this
meeting with Mrs. Montague, has been one of the most quiet and domestic
of men. He went occasionally into society, but never remained late at any
reception, and never bestowed especial attention upon any lady. He has
been a dear lover of his home and his books. We have seldom entertained
since my mother's death, except in an informal way, and he has always
appeared to have a strong antipathy to gay society women."
"How strange! for Mrs. Montague is an exaggerated type of such a woman;
her life is one continual round of excitement, pleasure, and fashion,"
Mona remarked, "and I am sure," she added, with a glance of sympathy at
her lover's downcast face, "that Mr. Palmer would soon grow very weary
of such an existence."
"I am certain of it, also," Ray answered, "and more than that, from
what I have learned of the woman through you--of her character and
disposition--I fear that my father is doomed to a wretched future,
if he marries her."
"I have similar forebodings," Mona said, thoughtfully, as her mind
recurred to the conversation of the morning. "How would it do for you to
tell your father what you know? It might influence him, and I shall not
mind having my secret revealed if he can be saved from future
unhappiness."
"I fear it is too late for that now. He is so thoroughly infatuated and
has committed himself so far, I doubt the wisdom of seeking to undeceive
him," Ray responded, with a sigh. "What powers of fascination that woman
has!" he exclaimed, with some excitement. "She charms every one, young
and old. I myself experienced something of it until you opened my eyes
to her real character."
"Such women are capable of doing a great deal of harm. Oh, Ray, I believe
that society ruins a great many people. Perhaps it was well that my
career in it was so suddenly terminated," Mona remarked, gravely.
Ray smiled fondly down upon her.
"I do not believe it could ever have harmed you very much," he said,
tenderly; "but I believe very many young people are unfitted for the
higher duties of life where they give themselves up to society to
such an extent as they do here in New York; it is such a shallow, unreal
kind of life. We will be social--you and I, Mona, when we make a home for
ourselves; we will be truly hospitable and entertain our friends for the
good that we can get and give, but not merely for the sake of show and of
being 'in the swim.'"
The smile and look which concluded these observations brought the quick
blood to the cheeks of the fair girl, and made another pair of eyes,
which were peering at them through the palms and ferns, flash with
malicious anger and jealousy.
"I have so few friends now, Ray, I fear we shall not have many to
entertain," Mona replied, a little sadly.
"I do not believe you know how many you really have, dear. You
disappeared from social life so suddenly, leaving everybody in the dark
regarding your whereabouts, that very few had an opportunity to prove
their friendship," Ray said, soothingly. "However," he added, his fine
lips curling a trifle, "we shall know how to treat those who have met and
ignored you. But have you heard anything from Mr. Corbin since I saw you
last?"
"No, and I fear that I shall not," Mona replied, with a sigh. "I do not
see any possible way by which he can prove my identity. As you know, I
have not a single item of reliable evidence in my possession, although
I firmly believe that such evidence exists, and is at this moment in Mrs.
Montague's keeping."
She then related how her suspicions had been freshly aroused by the
conversation of that morning, and Ray was considerably excited over the
matter.
"Why did you not tell me before that Louis Hamblin made himself obnoxious
to you at Hazeldean?" he questioned, flushing with indignation, for Mona
had also told him of her interview with the young man in the library, in
connection with the story of Mrs. Montague's more recent proposal to her.
"Because I believed that I had myself thoroughly extinguished him," Mona
answered, smiling; "and besides," she continued, with a modest blush, "I
believe that no true, considerate woman will ever mention her rejection
of a suitor to a third party, if she can avoid doing so."
Ray gave her an admiring glance.
"I wish there were more women in the world of the same mind," he said.
"But mind, dear, I will not have you annoyed about the matter further.
If, after what you have told Mrs. Montague to-day, young Hamblin should
presume to renew the subject again, you are to tell me and I will deal
with him as he deserves. It certainly is rather suspicious her wanting
you to become his wife. Why, it is in everybody's mouth that she has been
trying for months to make a match between him and Kitty McKenzie," he
concluded, thoughtfully.
"Kitty McKenzie is far too good a girl for such a fate; but I am afraid
she is really quite fond of him," said Mona, with a regretful sigh. "But
shall you come up to Forty-ninth street this afternoon, Ray?"
"I suppose I must, or people will talk," he replied, dejectedly. "If
my father is determined to marry the woman it will create gossip, I
suppose, if I appear to discountenance it; so all that remains for me
to do is to put the best possible face upon the matter and treat my
future step-mother with becoming deference."
"What do you suppose she will say when she learns the truth about us?"
Mona inquired, with an amused smile. "I imagine there will be something
of a breeze about my ears, for she informed me this morning that I need
have no hopes or aspirations regarding you upon the strength of any
attention that you bestowed upon me at Hazeldean, for--you were already
engaged," and a little ripple of merry laughter concluded the sentence.
Ray smiled, delighted to see the sunshine upon his dear one's face, and
to hear that musical sound. Yet he remarked, with some sternness:
"I think she is overstepping her jurisdiction to meddle in your affairs
to such an extent. But here comes our lunch," he interposed, as the
waiter appeared, bearing a well laden tray of tempting viands.
"Then let us drop all unpleasant topics, and give ourselves up to the
enjoyment of it," said Mona, looking up brightly. "A light heart and a
mind at ease greatly aid digestion, you know."
She would not allow him to refer to anything of a disagreeable nature
after that, but strove, in her bright, sweet way, to banish the cloud
from his face, and succeeded so well that before their meal was ended
they had both apparently forgotten Louis Hamblin and his aunt, and the
unsuitable engagement about to be announced, and were only conscious
that they were there together, and all in all to each other.
But time was flying, and Mona knew that she must get back to assist Mrs.
Montague with her toilet for the high-tea.
"It was very nice of you, Ray, to bring me here for this delightful
lunch," she said, as they arose from the table, with a regretful sigh
that they must separate, and began to draw on her gloves.
"We shall take all our lunches together before long, I hope, my darling,"
he whispered, fondly; "half the stipulated time is gone, Mona, and I
shall certainly claim you at the end of another six weeks."
Mona flushed, but she did not reply, and her heart grew heavy, for she
knew she should not be willing to become Ray's wife until she could prove
the circumstances of her birth.
She longed to tell him how she felt about it--she longed to know how he
would feel toward her if they should discover that any stain rested upon
her.
But she dare not broach the subject--a feeling of shame and humiliation
kept her silent, and she resolved to wait and hope until the six weeks
should pass.
They went out together, but still followed by that pair of malignant
eyes, which had, however, been cautiously veiled, as was also the face
in which they were set.
Ray walked with his betrothed to a corner, where he helped her aboard a
car, and then returned to his store.
Later, on that same day, a gay company of gentlemen and ladies filled
Mrs. Montague's spacious and elegant rooms, where she, in her elaborate
and becoming costume, entertained in her most charming manner.
Mr. Palmer had come very early and secured a private interview, previous
to the arrival of the other guests, and it was noticeable that, as the
lady received, a new and magnificent solitaire gleamed upon the third
finger of her left hand.
People surmised, very generally, what this meant, even before it was
whispered throughout the rooms that the engagement of Mr. Palmer and the
beautiful widow was formally announced. It was not very much of a
surprise, either, as such an event had been predicted for some time.
Ray did not arrive until late, for he had little heart for the gay scene,
and less sympathy in its object. But for his respect and love for his
father, he would not have set foot in the house at all.
"Gentlemen's dressing-room on the left of the hall above," said the
polite colored man, who attended the door, and Ray slowly mounted the
stairs, hoping that he might catch a glimpse, if not secure an
opportunity for a word with Mona.
But there was no such treat in store for him, for she was at that moment
assisting Mary, who had met with a mishap in running up stairs, having
stepped upon her dress and torn it badly.
Ray found the room indicated, which proved to be Mrs. Montague's boudoir,
deposited his hat, gloves, and cane where he could conveniently get them
again--for he did not intend to remain long--and then descended to the
drawing-room.
He made his way at once to where Mrs. Montague was standing with her
captive beside her, for he desired to get through with the disagreeable
duty of offering congratulations, with all possible dispatch.
Poor Mr. Palmer! Ray pitied him, in spite of his aversion to the
engagement, for he looked heated and flushed, and somewhat sheepish as
his son approached, although he tried to smile and look happy, as if he
enjoyed the glitter and show and confusion reigning all about him.
Ray politely shook hands with his hostess, making some general remark
upon the occasion and the brilliant assembly, as he did so.
"And--I hope I am to have your congratulations." Mrs. Montague archly
remarked, as she glanced from him to his father.
"You certainly can have no doubt that I sincerely hope the arrangement
may be for your mutual happiness," the young man gravely replied, as he
bowed before them both.
"Then show yourself a dutiful son by drinking a cup of tea with me,"
laughingly returned the lady, as she slipped her white hand within his
arm, and led him toward the great silver urn, where several charming
"buds" were dispensing the fragrant beverage to the numerous guests.
Ray had no alternative, and he well knew that the wily widow had adroitly
taken this way to make it appear to her guests that the son heartily
approved his father's choice.
She possessed infinite tact, and chatted away in the most brilliant
manner, making him wait upon her so assiduously that Ray was sure,
from the looks of those about them, that every one was admiring his
devotion(?) to his future step-mother.
She released him at last, however, and returned to her position beside
his father, and watching his opportunity he stole unobserved from the
room, and up stairs, intending to get away from the house as soon as
possible.
Reaching Mrs. Montague's boudoir, he walked to the bay-window, and looked
out upon the street. He was nervous and excited, and wished to regain his
accustomed composure before going down stairs again.
He stood there a moment absorbed in unpleasant reflections, then turned
to get his coat and hat.
As he did so, one of his feet caught in the heavy damask draperies, and
in trying to disengage it, something crackled sharply beneath it, and he
stooped to ascertain what it was.
Sweeping aside the heavy curtains, he saw a long, narrow document lying
upon the floor beneath its folds.
He picked it up, and saw that it was a piece of parchment with something
apparently printed upon it.
Not supposing it to be anything of importance, he mechanically unfolded
it and began to read.
"Why, it is a marriage certificate!" he exclaimed, in surprise, under his
breath.
Not caring to read the whole form, he simply glanced at the places where
the names of the contracting parties were written, and instantly a mighty
shock seemed to shake him from head to foot.
"Ha! what can this mean?" he exclaimed, in a breathless voice.
His face grew deathly pale. A blur came before his eyes. He rubbed them
to dispel it, and looked again.
"It cannot be possible!" he said, in a hoarse whisper, and actually
panting as if he had been running hard. "I cannot believe my sight, and
yet it is here in black and white! and Mona--Mona, my darling! the
mystery will be solved, and you will be righted at last."
The certificate, as will be readily surmised, was the very one which Mrs.
Montague had examined the previous evening.
When Mona had knocked upon the door, it will be remembered that she
was greatly startled and had upset the table. The accident had caused
the certificate to be thrown upon the floor, with the other things, and
by some means it was pushed beneath the heavy damask curtain and had
escaped Mrs. Montague's eye and memory, when she hastily gathered up the
scattered treasures and rearranged them in the secret compartment of the
table.
Thus it had come into Ray's possession just at a time when it was most
needed and desired.
Regaining his composure somewhat, he read it carefully through from
beginning to end.
"How could it have come to be in such a strange place, and to fall into
my hands?" he said, the look of wonder still on his face. "She--that
woman must have had it in her possession, even as Mona suspected, and by
some mistake or oversight dropped and forgot it. Shall I tell her I have
found it? Shall I return it and then demand it from her?" he questioned,
his innate sense of honor recoiling from everything that seemed
dishonorable. "No," he continued, sternly, "it is not hers--she has no
right whatever to it; it belongs to Mona alone, for it is the proof of
her birthright. I will take it directly to Mr. Corbin, and I will not
even tell Mona until I have first confided in him."
With a resolute purpose written on his fine face, Ray carefully put the
document away in an inner pocket; then donning his coat and hat, quietly
left the house.
The last postal delivery of that same evening brought to Mrs. Richmond
Montague the following anonymous letter:
"MADAME:--The girl in your employ, who calls herself Ruth Richards, is
not what she pretends to be. Her true name is Mona Montague, and she is
compromising herself by secret meetings with a gentleman in high life.
She lunched this morning at the Hoffman House Cafe with Mr. Raymond
Palmer, the son of a worthy gentleman whom you intend to marry. You
perhaps will best know whether she has any hidden purpose in figuring
as a seamstress, and under the name of Ruth Richards, in your house."
Unfortunately for our young lovers, Miss Josephine Holt had also been
taking an early lunch in the Hoffman House Cafe that morning, and had
seen Ray and Mona the moment they had entered.
Ever since she had discovered Mona at Hazeldean she had been trying to
think of some way by which she could separate them, and now, knowing that
Mrs. Montague was bent upon marrying Mr. Palmer, and feeling sure that
there was some secret which Mona wished to preserve by becoming a
seamstress in the woman's house under an assumed name, she believed she
could the best achieve her purpose by disclosing her identity and setting
Mrs. Montague against her. How well she succeeded will be seen later on.