Indeed the blow was so sharp and sudden that it seemed to benumb him to such an extent that he made no outward sign—­he appeared to be incapable of either speech or motion.  His face was turned away from his father, and partially concealed by his newspaper, so that Mr. Palmer, fortunately, did not observe the ghastly pallor that overspread it, and not knowing that Ruth Richards was Mona Montague, he was wholly ignorant of the awful import of his communication.

“Ruth Richards?” Ray finally repeated, in a hollow tone, which, however, sounded to his father as if he did not remember who the girl was.

“Yes, that pretty girl that Mrs. Montague had with her at Hazeldean—­the one to whom you showed some attention the night of the ball—­surely you cannot have forgotten her.  It seems,” the gentleman went on, “that young Hamblin has been smitten with her ever since she entered his aunt’s service, but she has opposed his preference from the first.  He followed them South, and met them at New Orleans, and it seems that the elopement was arranged there.  They were very clever about it, planning to leave on the Havana steamer on the very day set for their return to New York.  Mrs. Montague learned of it at almost the last moment, and that they had registered as Mr. and Mrs. Hamblin, although she did not ascertain that there had been any marriage beforehand, and, overcome by this unexpected calamity, she took the first express coming North.”

It was well for Ray that his father made his explanation somewhat lengthy, for it gave him time to recover a little from the almost paralyzing shock which the dreadful announcement had caused.

He was as white as a ghost, and his face was covered with cold perspiration.

“This terrible thing cannot be true,” he said to himself, with a sense of despair at his heart.  “Mona false! the runaway wife of another!  Never!”

Yet in spite of his instinctive faith in the girl he loved, he knew there must be some foundation for what had been told to his father.  Mrs. Montague had come home alone.  Louis and Mona had been left behind!  What could it mean?

His heart felt as if it had been suddenly cleft in twain.  He could not believe the dreadful story—­he would not have it so—­he would not submit to having his life and all his bright hopes ruined at one fell blow.  And that, too, just as he had learned such good news for his darling—­when he had been planning to give her, upon her return, the one thing which she had most desired above all others—­the indisputable proof of her mother’s honorable marriage; when it would also be proved that she was the heir to the property which Homer Forester had left, and could claim, if she chose, the greater portion of the fortune left by her father.

Ray had been very exultant over the finding of that certificate in Mrs. Montague’s boudoir, and had anticipated much pleasure in beholding Mona’s joy when he should tell her the glorious news.