LOUIS HAMBLIN IS JEALOUS OF RAY.
It was after one o'clock when Mona told Ray that she must go to her room,
so as to be in readiness to assist Mrs. Montague when she came up from
the pavilion.
Ray was loath to let her go; he longed to keep her there with him until
the last moment, but he felt that she was the best judge of her duty, and
he would not interfere with it, since he had conceded the point of her
remaining with Mrs. Montague for the present.
He arose to accompany her through the pavilion and drawing-room to the
hall.
"Will it not be better for me to go alone?" asked Mona, fearing that she
might be made conspicuous by this attention.
"Through all that crowd!" exclaimed her lover, surprised. "No, indeed;
I would not allow any lady whom I knew to go unattended, and since it is
known that I have been formally presented to Miss Richards, why should I
not treat her with becoming politeness?"
Mona made no further objection, but quietly took his arm and allowed
him to have his way. She was proud and happy to know that Ray was
noble-minded enough to have no fear of being seen publicly showing
courtesy to a simple seamstress.
As they were passing through the drawing-room Mona caught sight of Mrs.
Montague and Mr. Palmer sitting in an alcove by themselves.
Both glanced up, for the young couple were obliged to pass near them, and
Mrs. Montague frowned as she saw her waiting-maid, for the second time
that evening, upon the arm of Ray.
Mr. Palmer flushed and appeared somewhat embarrassed as he met his son's
eye, although he nodded and smiled in his usual genial way.
Reaching the main hall, Ray led Mona to the foot of the stairs, and held
out his hand for a parting clasp.
"Good-night, my darling," he said, bending over her and speaking in a
low tone. "Do you know that you are all the world to me, and I shall
impatiently count the days until I can claim you--three months hence at
the farthest! I must say good-by, too," he added, "as we leave for New
York early in the morning; but I shall try to see you again in a few
days."
Mona smiled, a delicate flush suffusing her face at his fond words; then,
responding to his good-night, she went quickly up stairs and sought her
room, firmly believing that she was the happiest person at Hazeldean,
and that her lover was the noblest man in the world.
Louis Hamblin had seen the young couple leave the pavilion, and following
them at a distance, had watched them with a jealous eye as they took
leave of each other.
Another pair of eyes were also peering at them over the banister in the
upper hall, and a beautiful face clouded over with anger and jealousy
when Ray bent, with that earnest, luminous look, to whisper his parting
in Mona's ear.
They belonged to a brilliant society belle, Miss Josephine Holt, who had
long entertained a secret affection for Ray.
She also knew Mona, having met her in society earlier in the season, and
had been jealous of the young man's attentions to her.
She wondered at finding her there at Hazeldean, for she knew of her loss
of fortune. She slipped out of sight into a dressing-room as Mona came up
stairs, and, finding Miss Merrill there, asked her, in an indifferent
tone, as Mona passed the door, who the young lady was.
"Oh, that is Ruth Richards--Mrs. Montague's waiting-maid," was the reply.
A smile of scorn leaped to Miss Holt's proud lips as she heard the name.
"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 embarrassment, as he caught his eye while passing
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 passing 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-assumed confusion, "I don't know why I used that name, 'pon my word
I don't, unless it was because of association. 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 identity, 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 identity 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 embarrassed 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 anticipated.
"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."
Mr. Palmer bent an anxious look upon his son.
"And yet you do not exactly approve of the plan?" he observed.
Ray looked up and frankly met his father's eye.
He believed it would be better to speak his mind freely than to dissemble
in any way.
"I cannot fail to understand your meaning, for, of course, I have not
been blind of late," he remarked. "I have seen how agreeable the society
of Mrs. Montague is to you, and, judging from appearances, yours is no
less so to her. I am bound to confess that she is a very handsome woman
and very charming also in company. Still it is plain to be seen that she
is a thorough society woman, and the question in my mind is, would you,
with your more quiet tastes and disposition, enjoy sharing the kind of
life that she leads?"
"But--I think--I hope that she would enjoy quiet home life and--my
companionship, more than society, after our marriage," Mr. Palmer
remarked, with some confusion.
Ray smiled slightly, for he saw that his father was very far gone, and he
doubted if any argument would convince him that the fascinating widow
would not be satisfied to settle down to the quieter joys of domestic
life, even after she had succeeded in capturing the wealthy diamond
merchant.
Still he resolved that he would say all that he had to say now, and then
leave the matter with him to decide as his heart and judgment dictated.
"I hope that you will not deceive yourself, father," he said. "Mrs.
Montague's nature is one that craves excitement and admiration, and she
has been so long accustomed to this kind of life I imagine it would be
impossible for her to resign it, cheerfully, for any one. Of course I
know but very little of her personally, and I do not wish to judge her
unfairly; but I should be very sorry to have you take any step which you
would be likely to hereafter regret."
Mr. Palmer looked grave. His judgment, his common sense told him that
Ray was right; that the gay woman of the world would not be willing to
sacrifice her pleasures to his wishes, would never meet the wants of his
more quiet and home-loving nature.
But he had been blinded and captivated by Mrs. Montague's wiles and
preference for his society; he had, in fact, been led on so far that
he saw no way of maintaining his dignity and honor except by making
her a formal offer of his hand.
"You have no personal objection to her, I hope, Ray," he said, without
replying to his remarks. "I assure you," he added, "the change shall not
affect your prospects in any way. I will make handsome settlements upon
you, and turn over the business to you before I take any important step."
"Thank you, sir," Ray heartily responded, but realizing that the matter
was as good as settled, and it would be useless to discuss it any
further. "Of course I should not feel at liberty to oppose you, were I
so inclined, in a matter which concerns you so exclusively; as I said
before, if you feel that such an alliance will be for your comfort and
happiness, I would not wish to lay any obstacle in your way."
"You are very good, my son," Mr. Palmer returned, and yet he felt far
from comfortable over the very doubtful approbation of his choice.
He had made up his mind to marry Mrs. Montague; he had indeed been
almost upon the point of offering himself to her, just as Ray and Mona
had passed through the drawing-room, when he had suddenly resolved
to wait and consult his son, before taking the irrevocable step. He
felt that he owed it to him to do so, for they had been good friends
and confidants for so many years.
"I must be looking out for number one, you know," he added, trying to
speak playfully; "for you will be getting married yourself one of these
days, and the old home would be very lonely without you."
Ray wondered, with a twinge of bitterness, if his father could have
forgotten how often he had told him that he "could never bear to be
separated from him, and that when he found a wife to suit him, he
must bring her home to brighten up the house and help to take care of
him."
Now, it was evident, from what he had just said, that he would be
expected to make a home for himself and his bride elsewhere.
"I wish you could find the girl you love, Ray," he went on, wistfully,
as he did not reply. "It is rather hard on you that she should have
disappeared so unaccountably. By the way, who was that lovely maiden
with you a while ago?"
"She was introduced to me as Miss Richards," Ray responded, evasively,
and flushing slightly.
Mr. Palmer looked up, surprised.
"So it was!" he exclaimed; "but I did not recognize her; and yet I
thought there was something familiar about her. I suppose it was because
she was in evening dress. Well, she is a charming little girl, anyhow.
I only hope your Mona is as pretty, and that you'll find her soon. But
suppose we go to bed," he said, with a weary sigh; "I'm tired, and we
must be off early to-morrow morning."
The conclusion of this story, and what fortunes befell Mona, are fully
told in the sequel to this volume entitled "True Love's Reward."