Mona was very glad, later on, that she was not below with the dancers, for she saw quite a number of people from New York, whom she knew, and she would not have cared to be recognized by them—­or rather snubbed by them.

It was a brilliant scene when the grand procession formed.

The pavilion had been very tastefully decorated, and one would hardly have believed that there were only bare, rough boards behind the artistically draped damask silk and lace, which had been used in profusion to conceal them.  The spacious room was brilliantly lighted; flowers and potted plants were everywhere, making the place bright with their varied hues, and sending forth their fragrance into every nook and corner, while the fine orchestra was concealed behind a screen of palms, mingled with oleanders in full bloom.

There must have been at least two hundred people present, the gentlemen, of course, in full evening dress, while the ladies’ costumes were of exceeding richness and beauty, yet among them all, it is doubtful if there was one so happy as the lovely girl who sat so quietly in the balcony and watched the gay scene in which she could not mingle.

There were a good many people sitting there with her, and not a few regarded her with curious and admiring interest, and judged from her dress that she was in mourning, and that she was thus debarred, by the customs of society, from appearing in a ball-room as one of the dancers.  That she was a lady no one doubted for a moment, for her every look and movement betrayed it.

Now and then Ray’s fond glances would seek her, and, catching her eye, a little nod or smile plainly told her how he longed to be with her.

Mona saw Mrs. Montague conspicuous among the dancers, and she appeared to enter into the spirit of the occasion with almost the zest of a young girl during her first season; while it was noticed that Mr. Palmer was her companion more frequently than any other person.

She had come in with him for the grand march, and when the procession for supper was formed she was again upon his arm.

But Mona could not see Ray anywhere among this crowd, and the occupants of the balcony also going below for refreshment, she found herself almost alone in the pavilion.

But it was not for long, for presently she caught the sound of a quick, elastic step, and the next moment her lover was beside her.

“Come back a little, dear, where we can sit in the shadow of the draperies, and we will have a precious half-hour all by ourselves,” he said, in a low tone; “then in a few moments a servant will bring us up some supper.”

“How thoughtful you are, Ray!  But, truly, I do not care for anything to eat,” Mona returned, as she arose and followed him to a cozy nook, where the draperies would partially conceal them from observation.

“I do, my brown-eyed lassie,” Ray responded, emphatically; “after the violent exercise of the last two hours I am quite sure my inner man needs replenishing.  Ah, James, you’re a good fellow,” he continued, as a tan-colored son of the South now made his appearance, bearing a tray of tempting viands.  “Here, take this and drink my health by and by; but come back and get your tray in the course of half an hour.”