The night was a beautiful one. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon was sailing in matchless majesty through the star-studded vault above, while the brilliantly lighted house and park, with the entrancing music from the pavilion floating out to him on the still air, added their charm to the scene. Ray lighted his cigar and strolled down the avenue, his heart filled with conflicting emotions. He was very happy in his new relations with Mona, yet strangely uneasy and depressed regarding his father's prospects. There was a line of great Norway spruce trees along one side of the avenue, not far from the main road, and as Ray, deeply absorbed in his own thoughts, was passing these, a figure suddenly stepped out from among them and accosted him. It was Louis Hamblin. "Ah, Palmer," he said, affably, "out for a smoke? Give me a light, will you?" "Certainly," Ray responded, cordially, and politely extended his cigar to him. The man made use of it, then returned it, with thanks, remarking, as he turned to walk along with him: "Glorious night, this!" "Indeed it is--we seldom have so perfect an evening," Ray heartily responded. "Quite a blow-out, too," added Mr. Hamblin, who was somewhat given to slang. "Wellington is a generous old codger, and has done things up in fine style." "Yes, I should say the ball has been a great success, at least everybody has appeared to enjoy it," Ray politely replied. He was not very well pleased with the young man's enforced companionship; he would have much preferred to be left to his own reflections. "That is so, and there were lots of pretty girls on the floor," Mr. Hamblin went on, in his free-and-easy style, "and the costumes were exceptionally fine, too. By the way," with a covert look at Ray, "that Miss Montague is a remarkably beautiful girl." Ray felt a great inward shock go through him at this observation, and he was on his guard in an instant. "Miss Montague!" he repeated, bending a keen glance upon his companion, "was there a _Miss_ Montague here this evening?" "I beg ten thousand pardons, Palmer," the young man broke forth, with well-assumed confusion, "I don't know why I used that name, 'pon my word I don't, unless it was because of association. I'd heard, you know, that you were attentive at one time to a Miss Montague, niece to that rich old chap, Dinsmore, who died recently. The name I should have spoken, however, was Miss Richards, with whom I saw you talking a while ago." Louis Hamblin had at once suspected Mona's identity, upon discovering the lovers sitting together in the balcony. He was confirmed in this suspicion when he followed them from the pavilion and observed their tender parting in the hall, and so he had dogged Ray's steps, when he went out for a walk, with the express purpose of pumping him, and had thus tried to take him off his guard by speaking of Mona in the way he did.