ontact; now, she was transformed into a beautiful
fiend, with a nature of spite and fury, and cruel revenge written upon
every delicate feature.

She sat there in the glow of the firelight until the gilded clock on
the mantel chimed the hour of two; then, with passion and pain showing
themselves in her every movement, she arose, and without undressing,
threw herself upon her bed, and wept herself to sleep.

* * * * *

Mona was gradually becoming accustomed to her new life, although it was
so very different from the almost charmed existence which she had
hitherto led, and had it not been for her grief for her uncle and on
account of Ray's seeming neglect and indifference, she would not have
been unhappy in her position.

Mrs. Montague was not unreasonable--she did not overwork her, although
there was always plenty of sewing to be done. She rather enjoyed being
busy, on the whole, while she experienced a great deal of satisfaction
in knowing that she could be independent; she even felt something of
pride, in thus rising above the adverse circumstances that had so
unexpectedly overtaken her.

She was very careful about her health, for she knew that this sudden
change from her previous active care-free life to such sedentary habits,
must be a great tax upon her constitution, and so she persisted in taking
exercise in the open air every day, although often she would have
preferred to remain in the house.

A couple of days after her encounter with Mr. Louis Hamblin upon the
steps of Mrs. Montague's residence, she was returning from her usual
stroll, when the young man again suddenly appeared around the corner of
a street she was passing, and almost ran into her.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Richards," he exclaimed, stopping short, and
regarding her with apparent surprise, while he lifted his hat to her with
great politeness, "I hope I did not startle you."

"Oh, no; and you are quite excusable," Mona responded, but somewhat
astonished that he should address her by her name; but she imagined that
he must have asked Mrs. Montague who she was.

She was about to hasten on, when he remarked:

"Since we are both going the same way, perhaps you will allow me to walk
with you."

Mona would have preferred to proceed on her way alone, but she had not
quite the courage to say so, since he appeared so courteous, so she made
no reply at all.

The young man took her silence for consent, and, falli