whom to expend his love and
care. It seems very strange to me that she did not write to him at the
time she fled from Paris; but I suppose, since she had eloped with and
been secretly married to my father, she was too proud and sensitive to
appeal to any one. Later, my father married this Miss Barton to please
his aunt and secure the fortune which he so much desired. I do not know
anything about his after-life. I questioned Uncle Walter, but he would
not talk about him--the most that he would tell me was that he was dead,
but how, or when he died, I could never learn, and I do not know as there
even exists any proof of his legal marriage with my mother, although my
uncle confidentially asserted that she was his lawful wife. I believe,
however, that such proofs do exist and that they are in Mrs. Montague's
possession."

Mona then proceeded to relate how she had happened to secure the position
she now occupied.

"It seems very strange," she said, "that fate should have thrown me thus
into her home, and somehow I have a suspicion that she must have been
concerned in the great wrong done my mother--that it was because of her
influence that my father never owned nor provided for me. And now," Mona
continued, flushing a deep crimson, "I am obliged to confess something of
which I am somewhat ashamed. When I found myself in Mrs. Montague's home,
and had resolved to remain, I knew that she would instantly suspect my
identity if I should give her my true name. This, of course, I did not
wish her to do, and so when she asked me what she should call me, I told
her 'Ruth Richards,' The name Ruth really belongs to me, but Richards is
assumed. Now, Ray, you can understand why I do not wish to have Mrs.
Montague undeceived regarding my identity, as she must be if you insist
upon at once proclaiming our relations. I am very strongly impressed that
she knows the secret of my father's desertion of my mother, and also that
she could prove, if she would, that I am the child of their legal
marriage."

Ray Palmer had grown very grave while listening to Mona's story, and when
she spoke of her assumed name it was evident, from the frown on his brow,
that he did not approve of having her hide herself from the world in any
such way.

"Why not ask her outright, then?" inquired this straightforward young
man, as the young girl concluded.

"That would never do at all," said Mona. "Uncle Walter told me that she
hated my mother, and me a hundred