ing Mr. Palmer and his
handsome son with so much of her society on the evening of Mr. Merrill's
reception.

When Mr. Palmer had mentioned the name of Mona Montague, inquiring if she
was a relative of the young girl, a sudden shock had thrilled through
her nerves, for it was a name which, for certain reasons, with her whole
heart, she _had hated_, although, as she believed, she had never seen the
young lady.

Before the evening was over, however, she had learned why the diamond
merchant was so anxious to find the ex-heiress of Walter Dinsmore.

She discovered, by adroit references and questions, by putting this and
that together, that Ray Palmer was in love with the girl; that the old
gentleman favored his suit in spite of her poverty, and would willingly
have sanctioned an immediate marriage if she could have been found.

"So much for this evening, and now I wish that I could find the girl,"
she mused, as she stood before her mirror and removed her ornaments,
after returning from the reception. "So she is beautiful! I wonder if she
looks like her mother--my hated rival! Ah! Mona Montague, I vowed that I
would have vengeance, and I had it. You dared to come between me and the
man I loved, and I swore I would crush you--I did, and now I mean to
crush your child also, if I can find her. True, I won your husband after
you were dead and gone, but he never loved me as he loved you, in spite
of my blind idolatry for him."

She had become greatly excited over these reflections, and, sweeping into
a heap the laces and jewels which she had removed from her person, she
began pacing the floor with swift, angry steps.

"I wish now," she began again, after a time, "that I had gone to Walter
Dinsmore's funeral, if for nothing more than to get a glimpse of the
girl; but he bore me no good-will, and somehow I could not make up my
mind to enter his house. I am sorry I didn't, for then I should have
known this pretty little lady-love of Mr. Ray Palmer, if ever I met her
again. Now I may have a long hunt for her. It was a great oversight on my
part; but I never thought of her disappearing in such a mysterious way."

After a while she removed her rich evening costume, then donning a warm
flannel wrapper, she seated herself before the glowing grate, clasped her
hands around her knees, and, gazing upon the bed of red-hot coals, she
fell to musing.

"So young Palmer is bound to marry Richmond Montague's fair daughter,"
she murmured, w