been one of the most quiet and domestic
of men. He went occasionally into society, but never remained late at any
reception, and never bestowed especial attention upon any lady. He has
been a dear lover of his home and his books. We have seldom entertained
since my mother's death, except in an informal way, and he has always
appeared to have a strong antipathy to gay society women."

"How strange! for Mrs. Montague is an exaggerated type of such a woman;
her life is one continual round of excitement, pleasure, and fashion,"
Mona remarked, "and I am sure," she added, with a glance of sympathy at
her lover's downcast face, "that Mr. Palmer would soon grow very weary
of such an existence."

"I am certain of it, also," Ray answered, "and more than that, from
what I have learned of the woman through you--of her character and
disposition--I fear that my father is doomed to a wretched future,
if he marries her."

"I have similar forebodings," Mona said, thoughtfully, as her mind
recurred to the conversation of the morning. "How would it do for you to
tell your father what you know? It might influence him, and I shall not
mind having my secret revealed if he can be saved from future
unhappiness."

"I fear it is too late for that now. He is so thoroughly infatuated and
has committed himself so far, I doubt the wisdom of seeking to undeceive
him," Ray responded, with a sigh. "What powers of fascination that woman
has!" he exclaimed, with some excitement. "She charms every one, young
and old. I myself experienced something of it until you opened my eyes
to her real character."

"Such women are capable of doing a great deal of harm. Oh, Ray, I believe
that society ruins a great many people. Perhaps it was well that my
career in it was so suddenly terminated," Mona remarked, gravely.

Ray smiled fondly down upon her.

"I do not believe it could ever have harmed you very much," he said,
tenderly; "but I believe very many young people are unfitted for the
higher duties of life where they give themselves up to society to
such an extent as they do here in New York; it is such a shallow, unreal
kind of life. We will be social--you and I, Mona, when we make a home for
ourselves; we will be truly hospitable and entertain our friends for the
good that we can get and give, but not merely for the sake of show and of
being 'in the swim.'"

The smile and look which concluded these observations brought the quick
blood to the cheeks of