Mr. Palmer looked grave.  His judgment, his common sense told him that Ray was right; that the gay woman of the world would not be willing to sacrifice her pleasures to his wishes, would never meet the wants of his more quiet and home-loving nature.

But he had been blinded and captivated by Mrs. Montague’s wiles and preference for his society; he had, in fact, been led on so far that he saw no way of maintaining his dignity and honor except by making her a formal offer of his hand.

“You have no personal objection to her, I hope, Ray,” he said, without replying to his remarks.  “I assure you,” he added, “the change shall not affect your prospects in any way.  I will make handsome settlements upon you, and turn over the business to you before I take any important step.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ray heartily responded, but realizing that the matter was as good as settled, and it would be useless to discuss it any further.  “Of course I should not feel at liberty to oppose you, were I so inclined, in a matter which concerns you so exclusively; as I said before, if you feel that such an alliance will be for your comfort and happiness, I would not wish to lay any obstacle in your way.”

“You are very good, my son,” Mr. Palmer returned, and yet he felt far from comfortable over the very doubtful approbation of his choice.

He had made up his mind to marry Mrs. Montague; he had indeed been almost upon the point of offering himself to her, just as Ray and Mona had passed through the drawing-room, when he had suddenly resolved to wait and consult his son, before taking the irrevocable step.  He felt that he owed it to him to do so, for they had been good friends and confidants for so many years.

“I must be looking out for number one, you know,” he added, trying to speak playfully; “for you will be getting married yourself one of these days, and the old home would be very lonely without you.”

Ray wondered, with a twinge of bitterness, if his father could have forgotten how often he had told him that he “could never bear to be separated from him, and that when he found a wife to suit him, he must bring her home to brighten up the house and help to take care of him.”

Now, it was evident, from what he had just said, that he would be expected to make a home for himself and his bride elsewhere.

“I wish you could find the girl you love, Ray,” he went on, wistfully, as he did not reply.  “It is rather hard on you that she should have disappeared so unaccountably.  By the way, who was that lovely maiden with you a while ago?”

“She was introduced to me as Miss Richards,” Ray responded, evasively, and flushing slightly.

Mr. Palmer looked up, surprised.

“So it was!” he exclaimed; “but I did not recognize her; and yet I thought there was something familiar about her.  I suppose it was because she was in evening dress.  Well, she is a charming little girl, anyhow.  I only hope your Mona is as pretty, and that you’ll find her soon.  But suppose we go to bed,” he said, with a weary sigh; “I’m tired, and we must be off early to-morrow morning.”