mail; but it did not occur to her to do so, or if it did, she evidently
did not care to put herself to that trouble.

Mona, however, did not mind the walk--indeed, on the whole, she was
rather glad of the privilege of getting out by herself into the sunshine
which was so in harmony with her own bright mood. Still she could not
help feeling that it was rather inconsiderate of Mrs. Montague to require
her to walk two miles simply to gratify a mere whim.

It was about nine o'clock when she started out upon her errand, and as
she ran down the steps and out upon the broad avenue, her bright eyes
went glancing eagerly about, for Mona had secretly hoped that she might
catch a glimpse of and perhaps even secure a few words with her lover.

But Ray was nowhere visible, being just at that moment in the
smoking-room with several other gentlemen.

Mr. Palmer, the senior, however, was walking in the park, and evidently
deeply absorbed in the consideration of some important matter, for his
hands were clasped behind him, his head was bowed, and his eyes fixed
upon the ground.

But he glanced up as Mona passed him, and his eyes lighted as they fell
upon her beautiful face.

He lifted his hat and bowed as courteously to her as he would have done
to Mrs. Montague herself, and Mona's heart instantly warmed toward him
for his politeness as she returned his salute.

"She is the prettiest girl in the house if she _is_ only a waiting-maid,"
he muttered, as he turned for a second to look at the graceful figure
after Mona had passed him. "How finely she carries herself--how
elastic her step!"

Another pair of observing eyes had also caught sight of her by this time,
and mental comments of a far different character were running through a
younger brain.

The smoking-room at Hazeldean was in the third story of the south wing
of the house, and overlooked the avenue and park, as well as a broad
stretch of country beyond, and Ray Palmer, sitting beside one of the
windows--apparently listening to the conversation of his companions, but
really thinking of his interview with Mona the previous evening--espied
his betrothed just as she was leaving the grounds of Hazeldean and
turning into the main road.

He knocked the ashes from his cigar, took another whiff or two, then laid
it down, and turned to his host, who was sitting near him.

"I believe I would like a canter across the country this bright morning,
Mr. Wellington," he remarked. "May