ose to his side with a fond
pressure.

"Indeed, no!" he said, tenderly; "it is better to meet you thus than not
at all. But must I give you up to Mr. Wellington?" he continued, in a
wistful tone, as they drew near the gentleman. "No; I will ask him to
direct me to the balcony, and I will conduct you there myself."

"Ah, Miss Richards, I have been looking for you," Mr. Wellington
remarked, as his eye fell upon the fair girl. "It is almost time for the
opening promenade, and you ought to be in your seat, so as not to miss
anything. But wait a moment; I must speak to this gentleman first," he
concluded, as some one approached him.

"Pray, Mr. Wellington, since you are so engaged, let me conduct Miss
Richards to the balcony," Ray here interposed, as if the thought had just
occurred to him.

Mr. Wellington, with a look of relief, readily assented to the
proposition, and Ray and his companion were thus permitted to enjoy
a little more of each other's society.

They easily found their way to the balcony, where Ray secured a good
position for his _fiancee_.

"I suppose I will have to leave you now," he whispered in her ear; "I am
engaged to Miss Wellington for the promenade; but, by and by, Mona, I
shall steal away and come to you again."

"Do not leave the dancing on my account, Ray," Mona pleaded; "it is all
so bright and lovely down there. I know you will enjoy it."

"I should, if I could have you with me," he interrupted, fondly; "but, as
I cannot, I would much prefer to remain quietly here with you--only that
would not do, I suppose."

"No, indeed," she returned, decidedly. "Now you _must_ go, for the
orchestra is beginning to play."

He left her, with a fond hand-clasp that brought a happy smile to her red
lips, and went below to seek his host's daughter.

Mona was very glad, later on, that she was not below with the dancers,
for she saw quite a number of people from New York, whom she knew, and
she would not have cared to be recognized by them--or rather snubbed by
them.

It was a brilliant scene when the grand procession formed.

The pavilion had been very tastefully decorated, and one would hardly
have believed that there were only bare, rough boards behind the
artistically draped damask silk and lace, which had been used in
profusion to conceal them. The spacious room was brilliantly lighted;
flowers and potted plants were everywhere, making the place bright with
their varied hues, and sending forth t