as Mr. and Mrs. Richmond Montague.  I was wild, frantic, desperate, when I discovered it; but I kept the matter to myself.  I did not wish Miss Dinsmore to learn the fact, for I had a plan in my mind which I hoped might yet serve to give me the position I so coveted.  I persuaded Miss Dinsmore that it would be wise to let me follow Walter to Europe, and I promised her that if such a thing were possible, I would return as his wife.  Six weeks after he sailed with his bride, I also left for Europe with some friends.  I kept track of the unsuspicious couple for four months, but it was not until they settled in Paris for the winter that I had an opportunity to put any of my plans into action.”

“If you please, Mrs. Montague, I would rather you would not tell me any more,” Mona here interrupted, with a shiver of repulsion.  “My father wrote out the whole story, and so I know all about it.  You accomplished your purpose and wrecked the life of a pure and beautiful woman—­a loved and loving wife; but truly I believe if my mother could speak to-day she would say that she would far rather have suffered the wrong and wretchedness to which she was subjected than to have exchanged places with you.”

“Do you dare to twit me of my present extremity and misery?” cried Mrs. Montague, angrily.

“Not at all; I was not thinking of these later wrongs of which you have been guilty,” Mona gently returned, “but only of the ruin which you wrought in the lives of my father and mother.  I cannot think that you were happy even after you had succeeded in your wretched plots.”

“Happy!” repeated the woman, with great bitterness.  “For two years I was the most miserable creature on earth.  I will tell it, and you shall listen; you shall hear my side of the story,” she went on, fiercely, as she noticed that Mona was restless under the recital.  “As I said before, when they settled in Paris for the winter I began to develop my plans.  I went to a skillful costumer, and provided myself with a complete disguise, then hired a room in the same house, although I took care to keep out of the sight of Walter Dinsmore and his wife.  One day he went out of the city on a hunting excursion, and met with an accident—­he fell and sprained his ankle, and lay in the forest for hours in great pain.  He was finally found by some peasants who bore him to their cottage, and kindly cared for him.  His first thought was, of course, for his wife, and he sent a messenger with a letter to her telling of his injury.  I saw the man when he rode to the door.  I instinctively knew there was ill news.  I said I knew Mrs. Montague, and I would deliver the letter.  I opened and read it, and saw that my opportunity had come.  Walter Dinsmore, with many sickening protestations of love, wrote of his accident, and said it would be some time before he should be able to return to Paris, but he wished that she would take a comfortable carriage the next day, and come to him if she felt able to do so.  Of course I never delivered the letter, but the next day I went to Mona Forester, and told her that her lover had deserted her; that she was no wife, for their marriage had been but a farce; that he had not even given her his real name; that he was already weary of her, and she would never see him again, for he was pledged to marry me as soon as he should return to America.