“A love like mine is not to be despised, and you shall yet find it so,” he muttered between his tightly shut teeth.

Mona would not deign him a reply, but standing in the same attitude, she again motioned him to go.

Unable longer to endure the unflinching gaze of her clear, scornful eyes, he shrank back through the portieres, which instantly fell into place again, and Mona, with a smile of disdain curving her red lips, went back to her seat by the window.

But all enjoyment in her book was gone; she was much excited, for she had been greatly shaken by the interview and made to feel her position as she never yet had done; and after sitting a few moments gazing sadly out of the window she again went up to her own room.

CHAPTER XVI.

MONA LEARNS SOMETHING OF RAY.

That same evening as Mona was passing up stairs from the laundry, whither she had been to press out the ruffles of a dress, which Mrs. Montague wished to wear at the german a few hours later, she heard the hall-bell ring a resounding peal.

She hastened on, for she did not wish to be observed by strangers, but as she reached the upper landing, she caught some hearty words of welcome from Mr. Wellington, the host, and knew that another guest had arrived.

But she suddenly stopped short, and the color receded from her cheeks, while her heart beat with quick, heavy throbs as she heard the name of Palmer pronounced.

“Can it be possible that Ray Palmer is the newcomer?” she asked herself.

She leaned over the banister, curiosity and an eager longing prompting her to ascertain if he were the guest.

But no, it was not Ray.

She saw instead an elderly gentleman, of benevolent and genial appearance, who seemed to be a valued friend of the family, judging from the enthusiastic greeting which his host accorded him.

“Well, well, Palmer, you are rather late in the week, but none the less welcome on that account,” remarked Mr. Wellington.  “We have been having gay times, and I have only needed your presence to make my enjoyment complete.  But where is that precious son of yours?  How is it that Raymond did not come with you?”

Mona held her breath at this.

The question had told her that the new arrival was Ray’s father, and that the young man had also been invited to join the gay company that was sojourning beneath the hospitable roof.

She leaned farther over the railing that she might not fail to catch Mr. Palmer’s reply.

“Oh,” answered that gentleman, as he removed his overcoat and gloves, “Ray is not yet quite as strong as we could wish, although he calls himself well, and he feels hardly equal to much dissipation as yet.  Besides, he is rather depressed just now.”

“Over the affair of the diamonds, I suppose?” Mr. Wellington observed.

“Yes, and—­some other matter that troubles him.”