ho never
betrayed the slightest interest in his own child. But--can I stay here
with her?" she asked, with burning cheeks and flashing eyes. "Can I--his
daughter--remain to serve the woman who usurped my mother's place, who is
living in affluence upon money which rightly belongs to me?"

The young girl was trembling with nervous excitement, and a feeling of
hot anger, a sense of deep injustice burned within her.

This startling discovery--for she was convinced that there could be but
one Mrs. Richmond Montague--stirred her soul to its lowest depths. She
felt a strange dread of this woman; a feeling almost of horror and
aversion made her sink from contact with her; and yet, at the same time,
she experienced an unaccountable curiosity to see and know something
of her. There was a spice of romance about the situation which prompted
her, in spite of her first impulse to flee from the house--to stay and
study this gay woman of the world, who was so strangely connected with
her own life.

She could leave at any time, she told herself, should the position prove
to be an uncongenial one; but since she had chosen the vocation of a
seamstress, she might as well sew for Mrs. Richmond Montague as any one
else; while possibly she might be able to learn something more regarding
her mother's history than she already knew. She felt sure that her uncle
had kept something back from her, and she so longed to have the mystery
fully explained.

But, of course, if she remained, it would never do for her to give her
own name, for this woman would suspect her identity at once, and probably
drive her out into the world again. It was not probable that she would
knowingly tolerate the child of a rival in her home.

Mona was glad now that she had not told Mary her name, as she had once
been on the point of doing.

"What shall I call myself?" she mused. "I do not dare to use Uncle
Walter's name, for that would betray me as readily as my own; even Mona,
being such an uncommon name, would also make her suspect me. There is my
middle name, Ruth, and my father was called Richmond--suppose I call
myself Ruth Richards?"

This rather pleased her, and she decided to use it. But she was strangely
nervous about meeting Mrs. Montague, and several times she was tempted to
send Mary for a carriage and flee to Mr. Graves's hospitable home, and
start out from there to seek some other position.

Once she did rise to call her. "I cannot stay," she said. "I