She had begun to believe--to hope that he entertained a more tender sentiment than that of mere friendship for her, and she had become conscious that love for him--and the strongest passion of her nature--had taken deep root in her own heart. How kind he had been to her that night--how thoughtful! anticipating her every wish! How his glance and even the tones of his voice had softened and grown tender whenever their eyes had met, or he had spoken to her! What, then, could be the meaning of his recent neglect? Could it be possible that it had been occasioned by the loss of her wealth?--that it had been simply the heiress of the wealthy Mr. Dinsmore in whom he had been interested, and now, having lost all, his regard for her had ceased? It was a bitter thought, but she could assign no other reason for his strange silence and absence during her sorrow. Must she resign all the sweet hopes that had begun to take form in her heart?--all the bright anticipations in which he had borne so conspicuous a part? Must she lose faith in one who had appeared to be so manly, so noble, and so high-minded? It certainly seemed so, and thus the future looked all the darker before her, for, humiliating as it was to confess it, she knew that Ray Palmer was all the world to her; that life without him would be almost like a body without a soul, a world without a sun. Her uncle's death had come upon her so like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, almost benumbing all her faculties with the grief it had hurled upon her so remorselessly, that she could think of nothing else until Mr. Graves had come to her with that other fatal piece of news--the loss of her fortune. She had scarcely looked into a daily paper until that evening, for she felt no interest in the outside world; she could apply her mind to nothing but her own afflictions; consequently, she had not known anything of the mysterious and exciting circumstances connected with Ray Palmer's sudden disappearance and the stolen diamonds. That little blind paragraph, which she had seen just before she was called down to Mrs. Montague's room, was the only hint that she had had of any trouble or loss in the Palmer family. So, of course, it is not strange that she so misjudged Ray; she could not know that only a great wrong kept him from speeding to her side to express the deepest interest and sympathy for her in her sorrow. And it was well, perhaps, that she did not know, for it would only have added to her troubles and caused her greater suffering. CHAPTER X. MONA MEETS MRS. MONTAGUE'S NEPHEW. The next morning, as soon as she had finished her breakfast, Mona asked Mary to conduct her to the sewing-room, and there she found a pile of work, which would have been exceedingly disheartening to a less resolute spirit. But the young girl had bravely determined to do the best she could and not worry about the result.