“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-fold on her account, and she would not be very likely to put any proofs into my hands, especially when they would be liable to be very detrimental to her own interests.”

“True, I did not think of that,” returned Ray, thoughtfully.  “But how do you expect to obtain possession of these proofs, even if she has them, and how long must I wait for you?” he gloomily added.

“I do not know, Ray,” she answered, with a sigh.  “I do not see my way very clearly.  I keep hoping, and something seems to hold me to this position in spite of myself.  Let me remain three or six months longer; then if I do not succeed—­”

“I will concede three months, but no more,” Ray interposed, decidedly; then added:  “What does it matter whether you know all this history or not?  It cannot be anything of vital importance, or that will affect your future in any way.  I wish you would let me speak to my father and announce our engagement at once, my darling.”

“Nay, please, Ray, let me have my way in this,” Mona pleaded, with crimson cheeks.  She could not tell him that she felt sensitive about becoming his wife until she could have absolute proof of the legal marriage of her father and mother.

He bent down and looked earnestly into her face.

“Mona, is that the only reason why you wish to wait?  You do not shrink from our union from any doubt of your own heart—­of your love for me, or mine for you?” he gravely asked.