while she was obliged to return to New York
alone," explained Mr. Palmer, wondering how he was going to introduce the
subject of his approaching marriage.

"Is that possible? Who was the girl?" exclaimed Ray, astonished and
utterly unsuspicious of the blow awaiting his fond heart.

"Mrs. Montague's seamstress--Ruth Richards."

CHAPTER XVI.

MONA CALLS ON MRS. MONTAGUE.

Mr. Palmer's unexpected announcement fairly stunned Ray for a moment. His
heart gave a startled bound, and then sank like a lump of lead in his
bosom, while a deadly faintness oppressed him.

Indeed the blow was so sharp and sudden that it seemed to benumb him to
such an extent that he made no outward sign--he appeared to be incapable
of either speech or motion. His face was turned away from his father, and
partially concealed by his newspaper, so that Mr. Palmer, fortunately,
did not observe the ghastly pallor that overspread it, and not knowing
that Ruth Richards was Mona Montague, he was wholly ignorant of the awful
import of his communication.

"Ruth Richards?" Ray finally repeated, in a hollow tone, which, however,
sounded to his father as if he did not remember who the girl was.

"Yes, that pretty girl that Mrs. Montague had with her at Hazeldean--the
one to whom you showed some attention the night of the ball--surely you
cannot have forgotten her. It seems," the gentleman went on, "that young
Hamblin has been smitten with her ever since she entered his aunt's
service, but she has opposed his preference from the first. He followed
them South, and met them at New Orleans, and it seems that the elopement
was arranged there. They were very clever about it, planning to leave on
the Havana steamer on the very day set for their return to New York. Mrs.
Montague learned of it at almost the last moment, and that they had
registered as Mr. and Mrs. Hamblin, although she did not ascertain that
there had been any marriage beforehand, and, overcome by this unexpected
calamity, she took the first express coming North."

It was well for Ray that his father made his explanation somewhat
lengthy, for it gave him time to recover a little from the almost
paralyzing shock which the dreadful announcement had caused.

He was as white as a ghost, and his face was covered with cold
perspiration.

"This terrible thing cannot be true," he said to himself, with a sense of
despair at his heart. "Mona false! the runaway wife of another! Never!"

Yet in s