on nicely if you do not let it freeze over again;
but what were you going to say?"

"I was going to ask you not to speak of--of our relations to each other
to any one just yet," Mona returned, with some embarrassment.

"Why not?" Ray demanded, astonished, and looking troubled by the request.

"There are reasons why I must remain for a while longer with Mrs.
Montague," said the young girl.

"Not in the capacity of waiting-maid," Ray asserted, decidedly; "I cannot
allow that."

"Indeed I must, Ray," Mona persisted, but with an appealing note in her
voice; "and I will tell you why. I told you that Mrs. Montague was no
relative; she is not really, and yet--she was my father's second wife."

"Mona! you astonish me," cried her lover, regarding her wonderingly.

"It is true, and there is some mystery connected with my own mother and
my early history which I am exceedingly anxious to learn. Uncle Walter
told me something of it only the day before he died; but I am very sure
that he kept back certain portions of the story which I ought to know,
and which he was also anxious to tell me when he was dying, and could
not. I have no means even of proving my identity; if I had, I suppose
that I could claim some of this wealth of which Mrs. Montague appears to
have abundance, and I am sure that she has some proof in her possession.
I want to get it, and that is why I am anxious to remain with her a
little longer. Let me tell you everything," Mona went on, hurriedly, as
Ray seemed about to utter another protest to her wish. "As I understand
the story, my father was dependent upon a rich aunt who wished him to
marry the present Mrs. Montague; but he, being in love with my mother,
was opposed to so doing, although he was anxious to secure the fortune.
As he was about to start on a European tour he married my mother and took
her with him, none of his friends apparently suspecting the union.

"Now comes a part of the story which I cannot understand. They traveled
for several months; but, while in Paris, my father suddenly disappeared,
and my mother, believing herself deserted, in her pride and humiliation,
immediately left the city, doubtless with the intention of returning to
America. She was taken ill in London, however, and there, a few months
later, I was born, and she died only a few hours afterward. Uncle Walter
heard of her sad condition, and hastened to her, but was three days too
late, and found only a poor weak infant upon