The woman glanced sharply at Mona as she entered, but, for all that she could see, the sweet face was as serene as if she were intent only upon her duties as waiting-maid, instead of thrilling with joy over the knowledge of being beloved by one whom, until that hour, she had believed lost to her.

“I will submit her to one more test, and if she can stand it I shall be satisfied,” she said to herself, as she fastened a beautiful pin at her throat, and then turned smilingly to Mona, but with the most innocent air in the world.

“Am I all right, Ruth?  Is the dress becoming?” she asked.

“Exceedingly,” Mona returned; “the color is just suited to you.”

“Thank you, I wonder if Mr. Palmer will also think so.  Do you know,” with a conscious laugh and forced blush, but with a covert glance at the girl, “I am becoming very much interested in that gentleman.  I like the son, too, but chiefly for his father’s sake.  By the way, young Mr. Palmer is to be here for the ball on Monday evening; at least his father is going to telegraph him to come.”

“Is he?” said Mona, absently, while she appeared to be engrossed with something which she had suddenly discovered about the new morning robe.  But the statement that Ray was coming to Hazeldean had given her an inward start that made every nerve in her body bound as if an electric current had been applied to them.  “This skirt does not seem to hang just right,” she added, dropping upon her knees, as if to ascertain the cause.  “Ah! it was only caught up—­it is all right now.”

She smoothed the folds into place and arose, while, the breakfast-bell ringing at that moment, Mrs. Montague passed from the room, very nearly if not quite satisfied that Ruth Richards was an entirely different person from Mona Montague.

Poor over-wrought Mona, however, fled into her own chamber, and locked the door the moment she was alone.

She sank into the nearest chair, buried her face in her hands, and fell to sobbing nervously.

“How can I bear it?” she murmured.  “It is perfectly dreadful to have to live such a life of deception.  I never would have been guilty of it if I had not been caught just as I was; but I could not give her my real name, for she would have known at once who I am; and I do so want to find out just why my father deserted my mother, and what there was between him and Uncle Walter that was so terrible.  Perhaps I never shall, but I mean to stay with her for a while and try.  She is a strange woman,” the young girl went on, musingly.  “Sometimes I think she is kind and good, then again she seems like a designing and unprincipled person.  Can it be possible that she is contemplating an alliance with Mr. Palmer?  She certainly received his attentions last evening with every appearance of pleasure, and he seemed to be equally delighted with her society.  I wonder if Ray will like it?  Somehow the thought of it is not agreeable to me, if—­if—­”