Part 23 (1/2)

It is impossible to describe the venom and hatred that were concentrated in the voice of this beautiful woman, as she thus reviewed this portion of her history, which, as can plainly be seen, had left a keen sting in her heart, notwithstanding her boasted victory over her rival.

It did not seem possible that she could be the same person, with her dark, revengeful face, her contracted brow, fiercely gleaming eyes, and that cruel, bitter curl upon her lips, who, in all the glory of her beauty and powers of fascination, had been the centre of attraction in Alexander Merrill's elegant residence less than two hours previous.

It almost seemed as if she must be possessed of a dual nature, similar to that so cleverly represented in the story of ”Doctor Jekyll and Mr.

Hyde.” Then, she had been all smiles, and sweetness, and graciousness, a vision of delight, a presence that charmed and pleased every one with whom she came in contact; now, she was transformed into a beautiful fiend, with a nature of spite and fury, and cruel revenge written upon every delicate feature.

She sat there in the glow of the firelight until the gilded clock on the mantel chimed the hour of two; then, with pa.s.sion and pain showing themselves in her every movement, she arose, and without undressing, threw herself upon her bed, and wept herself to sleep.

Mona was gradually becoming accustomed to her new life, although it was so very different from the almost charmed existence which she had hitherto led, and had it not been for her grief for her uncle and on account of Ray's seeming neglect and indifference, she would not have been unhappy in her position.

Mrs. Montague was not unreasonable--she did not overwork her, although there was always plenty of sewing to be done. She rather enjoyed being busy, on the whole, while she experienced a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that she could be independent; she even felt something of pride, in thus rising above the adverse circ.u.mstances that had so unexpectedly overtaken her.

She was very careful about her health, for she knew that this sudden change from her previous active care-free life to such sedentary habits, must be a great tax upon her const.i.tution, and so she persisted in taking exercise in the open air every day, although often she would have preferred to remain in the house.

A couple of days after her encounter with Mr. Louis Hamblin upon the steps of Mrs. Montague's residence, she was returning from her usual stroll, when the young man again suddenly appeared around the corner of a street she was pa.s.sing, and almost ran into her.

”I beg your pardon, Miss Richards,” he exclaimed, stopping short, and regarding her with apparent surprise, while he lifted his hat to her with great politeness, ”I hope I did not startle you.”

”Oh, no; and you are quite excusable,” Mona responded, but somewhat astonished that he should address her by her name; but she imagined that he must have asked Mrs. Montague who she was.

She was about to hasten on, when he remarked:

”Since we are both going the same way, perhaps you will allow me to walk with you.”

Mona would have preferred to proceed on her way alone, but she had not quite the courage to say so, since he appeared so courteous, so she made no reply at all.

The young man took her silence for consent, and, falling into step with her, began chatting as freely as if they had been old acquaintances.

His manner was very respectful, while there was nothing in what he said to which she could in the least object--indeed, she found him rather entertaining at first, and almost forgot, for the time, that she was Ruth Richards, the seamstress, instead of Mona Montague, the heiress, and social equal of any high-toned young man whom she might meet.

”Have you lived long in New York, Miss Richards?” Mr. Hamblin inquired, after he had rattled on about various matters, and Mona had hardly spoken. He desired to hear her talk, that he might judge of her mental caliber.

”Yes, thirteen or fourteen years,” Mona replied.

Louis Hamblin frowned; he had hoped that she was a stranger there.

”Ah! Then of course New York is very familiar to you,” he remarked. ”Do your friends reside here?”

”No--I have no friends;” Mona said, flus.h.i.+ng and with starting tears.

”Indeed,” returned her companion, in a tone of sympathy, ”I noticed that you were in mourning--I am very sorry.”

Mona had heard so few words of sympathy of late that she came near losing her self-control at this, and she found herself unable to make any reply, lest her tears should fall.

”You look very delicate, too,” her companion continued, bending a curious glance upon her. ”I am sure you have not always lived as you are living now; it must be very hard to sit and sew all day. I hope you find my aunt considerate, Miss Richards.”

Mona was astonished at this last remark which she thought was in very bad taste, and she turned a cold, questioning glance upon him.

”If at any time you should not,” he went on, flippantly, ”just let me know, Miss Richards, and I will see what I can do for you, for I have considerable influence with Aunt Marg.”