one with him, but she kept
hoping that he would soon go out again, and so went on with her reading.

Presently, however, he laid down his pen, and, glancing across the table
at her, asked:

"What book have you that is so interesting?"

"The Senator's Bride,'" Mona briefly responded.

"Ah! I have never read it. What do you think of it?"

"It is quite entertaining," was the brief, cold reply.

"Pray, do not be so cold and proud--so exceedingly laconic," the young
man said, with a smile, which was intended to be persuasive.

Instantly the young girl arose again, stately and frigid as an iceberg.

She attempted to pass him and go to her own room, but he threw out his
hand, seized her arm, and stopped her.

"_Please_ do not go!" he urged, in an imploring tone. "I have something
which I want very much to say to you."

Mona's blood began to boil, and her eyes flashed dangerously at his
presumption in daring to touch her.

She was too proud to struggle with him, and she could not shake off his
hold upon her arm.

"Release me, Mr. Hamblin!" she said, in ominously quiet tones.

"Nay, _do_ not treat me so!" he pleaded. "Be kind to me for once, and let
me open my heart to you."

Her red lips curled.

"_Will_ you let me pass?" she icily demanded.

He colored hotly at her tone; a flash of anger gleamed in his eyes.

"_No_. Be seated, _Miss Mona Montague_; I have something important to say
to you," he said, in a tone that struck terror to her heart, while the
utterance of her real name so startled and unnerved her that, almost
involuntarily, she sank back into her chair, her face as white as her
handkerchief, and trembling in every limb.

"Ah! that surprises you, doesn't it?" he remarked, with a smile of
triumph; "and now I imagine you will be more tractable."

"What do you mean?" demanded Mona, recovering her composure somewhat, and
determined not to commit herself, if she could avoid it.

"What do I mean?" he repeated, with a light laugh. "I mean to have a
little private and serious conversation with Miss Mona Montague; and when
I have finished, I do not believe that she will treat me quite so
cavalierly as she has been doing of late."

"I do not wish to hold any conversation with you, Mr. Hamblin," Mona
began, haughtily.

"Perhaps not, but you will, nevertheless," he interposed; "and, let me
tell you, to begin with, it will be useless for you to ignore the name by
which I have addressed you. I have discov