for me; go now and get ready yourself, or you will miss the opening
promenade."

Mona hastened away to her own room, where she had everything laid out in
the most orderly manner, ready to put on, and if Mrs. Montague could have
seen the dainty undergarments and skirts spread upon her bed; the costly
kid boots and silken hose for her pretty feet, she might have arched her
eyebrows more than ever over the extravagant taste of her seamstress.

Mona arranged her hair with great care, as she had worn it on the evening
when she attended the opera with Ray, and this done she was soon ready.

She looked lovely. The black net, with its dainty white trimmings, was
very becoming to her delicate complexion. The lining to the corsage had
been cut low, and her pure white neck gleamed like marble through the
meshes of the dusky lace. There was no lining, either, to her sleeves and
her beautifully rounded arms looked like bits of exquisite sculpture.
She had turned the lace away in the shape of a V at her throat, and now
finished it by pinning to her corsage the cluster of white violets which
she had purchased in the morning.

She regretted that she had no gloves with her suitable for the occasion,
but since she was only to sit in the balcony, she thought it would not
matter much if she wore none, and her small white hands, with their
rose-tinted finger-tips, were by no means unsightly objects.

She was very happy and light-hearted, as she turned for one last look in
her mirror before leaving her room.

She smiled involuntarily at her own loveliness, and gave a gay little nod
at the charming reflection as she turned away.

Then she went out and softly down a back stair-way to avoid the crowds of
people who were going up and down the front way.

But, on reaching the lower floor, she was obliged to cross the main hall
and drawing-room in order to reach the pavilion, which Mr. Wellington had
caused to be erected outside on the lawn for dancing, and which was
connected with the house by a covered passage leading from one of the
long windows of the drawing-room.

Mona stood in the doorway a moment, feeling slightly embarrassed at the
thought of going unattended to search for her seat in the balcony.

Just then a round, white arm was slipped about her waist, and a gay,
girlish voice cried in her ear:

"Oh, Miss Richards! how perfectly lovely you look! Are you coming to the
ball?"

Mona turned and smiled into the bright face of