r name, told the fair girl all she needed to know to prove
that Ray Palmer was loyal to her, in spite of all the reverses of
fortune, of friends, of position, and to prove him the noble character
she had always believed him to be.

He stretched forth an eager hand, and grasped hers with a fervor which
told her how deeply he was moved to find her, even before his words
confirmed it.

"Oh! I _have_ not made a mistake, have I?" he asked, bending his
luminous face closer to hers, eager to read a welcome there. "I _have_
found you--_at last_? If you knew--if I could tell you--But first tell
_me_ that you are glad to see me," he concluded, somewhat incoherently.

Mona's hand lay unresisting in his clasp, and a feeling of restful peace
filled her heart, as she lifted her glad face to him.

"No, you have made no mistake--it is I, Mona Montague, and I am
very"--with a little sob of joy, which she could not control--"very glad
to see you again, Mr. Palmer."

"My darling!" he said, made bold by her look, her tone, but more by the
little sob, which his own heart told him how to interpret. "Tell me yet
more--I cannot wait--I have been so hungry for the sight of your dear
face, for the sound of your voice, and I thought that I had lost you.
I love you, Mona, with all my heart and strength, and this unexpected
meeting has so overcome me that the truth must be told. Are you still
'glad'?--will you make _me_ glad by telling me so?"

"But--Mr. Palmer--" Mona began, tremulously, hardly able to credit her
ears, hardly able to believe that this great and almost overwhelming joy
was a reality, and not some illusive dream. "I am afraid you forget--"

"What have I forgotten?" he gently asked, but without releasing her hand.

"That my uncle is gone. I have no home, friends, position! Do you know--"

"I know that you are Mona Montague--that I _love_ you, and that I have
_found_ you," he interrupted, his own voice quivering with repressed
emotion, his strong frame trembling with eager longing, mingled with
something of fear that his suit might be rejected.

"Then I _am_ glad," breathed Mona, and the next moment she was folded
close to Raymond Palmer's manly bosom, where she could feel the beating
of the strong, true, loyal heart of her lover while with his lips pressed
upon her silken hair he murmured fond words which betrayed how deep and
absorbing his affection was for her--how he had longed for her and how
bitterly he had suffered be