Mona Part 22

Ray sighed heavily; then, as his glance still lingered upon the beautiful woman, he exclaimed:

"Isn't she lovely? I believe she is the purest blonde I have ever seen.

Her hair is like spun gold, her features are faultless, and her neck and arms are as perfect as if sculptured from marble."

"Take care, Ray," said his father, with a sly smile; "people say that she is a perfect siren. I have myself been warned against her to-night."

"Pshaw!" retorted the young man. "Where is her husband?"

"She has none, and therein lies the danger."

"Ah! a widow! How old is she?"

"Not more than twenty-eight or thirty, I judge--at least, she does not look it in full dress, and she is very charming in manner. Merrill says that all the men, both old and young, are making fools of themselves over her."

"Well, then, you and I will not help to swell the list," said Ray, curtly, a trifle irritated that his staid and dignified father should have so much to say about the gay society woman; and turning on his heel, he moved away, with the purpose of approaching the one whose diamonds had attracted so much attention. He meant to seek an introduction, and get an opportunity to examine the stones more closely.

Fifteen minutes later he stood bowing before her, as a friend presented him, and he was long in recovering from the shock which went through him as he caught the name by which she was introduced:

"Mrs. Vanderbeck, allow me to present my friend, Mr. Palmer."

"Pardon me. Did I understand the name--Mrs. Vander_beck_?" Ray said, trying to control the rapid throbbing of his pulses, and putting a slight emphasis upon the last syllable of the name.

He was sure that the lady started and changed color as he did so, for he was watching her closely.

"No," she said; "you haven't it quite right; we spell it _h-e-c-k_."

But she seemed strangely ill at ease during the few moments that Ray stood conversing with her, while from time to time he caught her regarding him curiously. He did not, however, get any satisfaction from his examination of her ornaments; for among such a blazing array of diamonds it was impossible to tell if he had ever seen any of them before.

"I believe she was connected in some way with that strange affair. She _may_ be the woman who called upon Doctor Wesselhoff to arrange for my imprisonment," he said to himself, after he had left her. "At all events," he added, resolutely, "I am going to lay the matter before Detective Rider, and see what he thinks about it."

He was more strongly confirmed in his suspicions a few minutes later, when he saw Mrs. Vanderheck bidding her host and hostess good-night, and then withdraw from the company.

About ten o'clock supper was served, and, strangely enough, after the company was seated, Ray found that his left-hand neighbor was no other than the fascinating Mrs. Montague, while, glancing beyond her, he saw that his father had acted as her escort to the table.

It annoyed him exceedingly to see them together, and to observe the gallantry with which his father was attending to the fair widow's wants.

During all the years that had elapsed since the death of his mother, Mr.

Palmer had not manifested the slightest desire for the society of ladies, and Ray had never thought of such a thing as his marrying again.

But now it suddenly flashed across him: "What if this gay woman of the world, with her beauty and powers of fascination, should tempt him to make her the mistress of his home and wealth?"

The thought was far from agreeable to him, and yet he could not have told why.

He could find no fault with Mrs. Montague personally; she was beautiful in face and figure; she was delightful in manner. Why, then, did he shrink from the thought of having her come into the family?

Was he jealous? Was he selfish? Did he begrudge his father the comfort and enjoyment of a more perfect domestic life? Was he unwilling to have any one come between them? Was he fearful that his own prospects--his expectations of wealth--would be affected by such a union?

All these questions darted through his mind, and he felt shamed and humiliated by them. He could not a.n.a.lyze his feelings; he only knew that the thought was not pleasant to him.

Mr. Palmer soon espied his son, and leaning back in his chair, asked, with his usual genial smile:

"Well, Ray, who have you for a companion?"

"Miss Grace Merrill," he briefly responded.

"Ah! a pleasant girl; but allow me to make you acquainted with your left-hand neighbor also; Mrs. Montague, my son, Mr. Raymond Palmer."

Mrs. Montague turned to the young man with her most brilliant smile, though a gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt illuminated her lovely eyes, as she remarked the conscious flush upon the elder gentleman's face, as he performed the ceremony of introduction.

"I am delighted to meet you, Mr. Palmer," she said: "but I could hardly believe that you were the son when your father pointed you out to me."

Ray could not have been ungracious beneath the charm of her manner, even had he been naturally so, and he soon found himself disarmed of all his disagreeable reflections and basking with delight in the suns.h.i.+ne of her presence, her bright wit and repartee, and her sweet, rippling laugh. By the time supper was over it would have been difficult to tell who was the more ardent admirer of the fascinating widow--the father or the son.

Later in the evening she ran across him again by accident(?), and another half-hour spent in her society completed the glamour which she had thrown around him at supper, and, in spite of his a.s.sertion to the contrary, it really seemed as if Raymond Palmer was likely to help swell the "list of fools" who blindly wors.h.i.+ped at her shrine.

CHAPTER XIV.

LOUIS HAMBLIN IS INTERESTED IN MONA.

Mrs. Richmond Montague had a purpose in honoring Mr. Palmer and his handsome son with so much of her society on the evening of Mr. Merrill's reception.

When Mr. Palmer had mentioned the name of Mona Montague, inquiring if she was a relative of the young girl, a sudden shock had thrilled through her nerves, for it was a name which, for certain reasons, with her whole heart, she _had hated_, although, as she believed, she had never seen the young lady.

Before the evening was over, however, she had learned why the diamond merchant was so anxious to find the ex-heiress of Walter Dinsmore.

She discovered, by adroit references and questions, by putting this and that together, that Ray Palmer was in love with the girl; that the old gentleman favored his suit in spite of her poverty, and would willingly have sanctioned an immediate marriage if she could have been found.

"So much for this evening, and now I wish that I could find the girl,"

she mused, as she stood before her mirror and removed her ornaments, after returning from the reception. "So she is beautiful! I wonder if she looks like her mother--my hated rival! Ah! Mona Montague, I vowed that I would have vengeance, and I had it. You dared to come between me and the man I loved, and I swore I would crush you--I did, and now I mean to crush your child also, if I can find her. True, I won your husband after you were dead and gone, but he never loved me as he loved you, in spite of my blind idolatry for him."

She had become greatly excited over these reflections, and, sweeping into a heap the laces and jewels which she had removed from her person, she began pacing the floor with swift, angry steps.

"I wish now," she began again, after a time, "that I had gone to Walter Dinsmore's funeral, if for nothing more than to get a glimpse of the girl; but he bore me no good-will, and somehow I could not make up my mind to enter his house. I am sorry I didn't, for then I should have known this pretty little lady-love of Mr. Ray Palmer, if ever I met her again. Now I may have a long hunt for her. It was a great oversight on my part; but I never thought of her disappearing in such a mysterious way."

After a while she removed her rich evening costume, then donning a warm flannel wrapper, she seated herself before the glowing grate, clasped her hands around her knees, and, gazing upon the bed of red-hot coals, she fell to musing.

"So young Palmer is bound to marry Richmond Montague's fair daughter,"

she murmured, with curling lips and a bitter laugh; "and his father is only too willing, provided she can be found. Ha! ha! ha!" a soft, rippling laugh of intense amus.e.m.e.nt and scorn bursting from her red lips.

"I wonder what they would say if they knew all that I know? I'd give a great deal if I could ascertain just how much the girl knows about herself. She could make a great deal of trouble for me if--"

She broke off suddenly just here, but after a few moments of thought resumed, in another strain:

"I believe I shall have to cultivate my new acquaintances. I think I can play the father against the son, and, _vice versa_, for it was evident to-night that both, with very little encouragement, would become my willing slaves. I imagine that the senior Palmer might make a very agreeable companion. He is reported to be rich--a diamond merchant, and I am fond of diamonds. He is certainly very gallant and not bad-looking.

Yes, I think I must cultivate him; and then, if the junior member should discover his inamorata by and by, a word in the ear of the father might be sufficient to blast Miss Mona's hopes, and thus complete the work I began so successfully--at least in some respects--so many years ago. Ah, Madame Mona, you did not realize the strength of the spirit which you defied that day in Paris. I made you _believe_ that your marriage was all a sham, but if I could have made it really so I should have been better pleased with my work, for then I should have had nothing to fear, at this late day, from your child."