A day or two after this meeting with her old friend, and just as she was returning from her usual walk, Mona encountered a young man as she was about to mount the steps leading into Mrs. Montague's residence. He was dressed in the height of fashion, and might have been regarded as fairly good-looking if he had not been so conceited and self-conscious. The young girl did not bestow more than a passing glance upon him, supposing him to be some stranger whom she might never meet again. She ran lightly up the steps, when, what was her surprise to find him following her, and, just as she was on the point of ringing for admittance, he stayed her hand, by remarking, with excessive politeness: "I have a latch-key, miss--pray allow me to admit you." Of course, Mona knew then that this young exquisite must be the nephew of Mrs. Montague, of whom Mary had told her--Mr. Louis Hamblin. She observed him more closely as she thanked him, and saw that he was apparently about twenty-five years of age, with light-brown hair, blue eyes, and somewhat irregular, yet not unpleasant, features. He was well formed, rather tall, and carried himself with ease, though somewhat proudly. He was evidently impressed with Mona's appearance, as his look of admiration plainly indicated. He appeared to regard her as some visitor to see his aunt, for his manner was both respectful and gentlemanly as he opened the door, and then stood aside to allow her to pass in. Mona bowed in acknowledgment of this courtesy, and, entering, passed directly through the hall and up stairs, greatly to the young man's astonishment. He gave vent to a low whistle, and exclaimed, under his breath, as he deposited his cane in the stand and drew off his gloves: "Jove! I imagined her to be some high-toned caller, and she is only some working girl. Really, though, she is as fine a specimen of young womanhood as I have encountered in many a day, and I should like to see more of her. Ah, Aunt Marg," he went on, as Mrs. Montague came sweeping down the stairs, just then, in an elaborate dinner costume, "how fine you look, and I'm on time, you perceive! How about the McKenzie reception to-night?" "We must go, of course," responded the lady, in a somewhat weary tone, "for Mrs. McKenzie would be offended if we should remain away, though I am really too tired after the Ashton ball last evening to go out again; besides, I do not like to wear a dress that isn't properly finished; but I shall have to, for the girls cannot possibly do all that needs to be done." "You are too particular, Aunt Marg. What if every seam isn't bound just as you like it? Your general make-up is always superb. By the way, who was that girl in black who just came in and went up stairs?" the young man concluded, as if it had only just occurred to him to inquire regarding her. "Oh, that was Ruth Richards, my seamstress; she had just been out on an errand," Mrs. Montague indifferently returned as they passed into the drawing-room.