rt with it."

"It shall never go out of my possession," she gravely replied, as she
took it, and then quietly left the room.

She was very grave as she went slowly up stairs, and once or twice a
long, sobbing sigh escaped her.

"Oh, why did such a thought ever come to me?" she murmured. "It is
too dreadful, and I will not harbor it for a moment. He is good and
noble--his whole life has been grand and above reproach, and I love
him with all my heart."

That evening, about seven o'clock, Mona Montague went down to the elegant
drawing-room of her uncle's residence, exquisitely clad for the opera.

Her dress was a fine black lace, of a delicate and beautiful pattern,
made over old gold silk, with the corsage cut low and sleeveless, thus
leaving her neck and arms to gleam like alabaster through the meshes
of delicate lace. The heavy edging at the throat was just caught together
with a shell of Etruscan gold, studded with diamonds. Costly solitaires
gleamed in her ears, while her dainty wrists were encircled with Mr.
Dinsmore's gift of the morning. Upon her head she wore a jaunty hat of
black lace, surrounded by a wreath of old gold crushed roses, that
contrasted beautifully with her clear, fair skin and dark eyes. Her
face was bright with anticipation, her cheeks were slightly flushed, and
she was a vision of loveliness to gladden the heart of any beauty-loving
man.

"I have come down to receive your verdict, Uncle Walter," she remarked,
smiling, and sweeping him a graceful courtesy, as he threw down his paper
and arose to meet her, "Will I do?"

His face lighted with love and pride as he ran his eye over her.

"Really, Mona," he said, "you make me almost wish that I were going to
see 'Il Trovatore' with you in Ray Palmer's place. You are a very queen
of beauty to-night."

Mona flushed as he uttered Ray Palmer's name, but she put up her lips to
kiss him for his compliment, and at that moment the young man himself was
announced.

His eyes lighted with admiration, as he approached to salute the
beautiful girl, and a thrill of delight ran through him as he clasped
the hand she so cordially extended.

He was several inches taller than Mona, and a young man of singularly
noble bearing, and perhaps twenty-three years of age.

Dignity of character and sincerity of purpose were stamped upon every
feature of his intelligent face, and gleamed from his frank, genial eyes,
which met yours with a directness that won the he