Mr. Palmer urged an early date, and after a little strategic hesitation, Mrs. Montague finally consented to make him happy, and the wedding was set for just one month from that day.  This matter settled, the sedate lover took his leave, and his fiancee with a triumphant look on her handsome face, went up stairs to look over her wardrobe to see what additions would be needed for the important event.

“Whether Louis succeeds in making the girl marry him or not, she will have been so compromised by this escapade that Ray Palmer will, of course, never think of making her his wife, and my purpose will be accomplished,” she muttered, with an evil smile.

She did not give a thought to the wanderers after that, but went about the preparations for her approaching marriage with all the zeal and enthusiasm that might have been expected in a far younger bride-elect.

Mr. Palmer went home feeling a trifle anxious as to how Ray would receive the news that the day was set for making Mrs. Montague his wife.

To see that he dreaded revealing the fact expresses but little of what he felt, but he had never taken any important step of late years without consulting his son, and he did not feel at liberty to now ignore him upon a matter of such vital interest.

So, after tea that evening, when they sat down to read their papers, he thought the opportunity would be a favorable one to make his confession.

Ray seemed anxious and depressed, for he had not received his usual semi-weekly letter from Mona that day, and was wondering what could be the reason, when Mr. Palmer suddenly remarked: 

“Mrs. Montague has returned.”

“Ah!” said Ray, and instantly his face brightened, for his natural inference was that Mona had, of course, returned with Mrs. Montague, and that accounted for his having received no letter that day.

“Yes, she arrived this morning,” said his father.

“She is well, I suppose?” Ray remarked, feeling that he must make some courteous inquiry regarding his stepmother-elect.

“Yes, physically; but that scapegrace of a nephew has been giving her considerable trouble,” Mr. Palmer observed.

“Trouble?” repeated his son.

“Yes, he eloped with a girl from New Orleans.  They went on board a steamer bound for Havana, registered as man and wife, and that is the last she has heard of him, while she was obliged to return to New York alone,” explained Mr. Palmer, wondering how he was going to introduce the subject of his approaching marriage.

“Is that possible?  Who was the girl?” exclaimed Ray, astonished and utterly unsuspicious of the blow awaiting his fond heart.

“Mrs. Montague’s seamstress—­Ruth Richards.”

CHAPTER XVI.

MONA CALLS ON MRS. MONTAGUE.

Mr. Palmer’s unexpected announcement fairly stunned Ray for a moment.  His heart gave a startled bound, and then sank like a lump of lead in his bosom, while a deadly faintness oppressed him.