She now believed that the woman must know all her mother's history, and certain facts regarding her own birth, which she felt that Mr. Dinsmore had, for some reason, withheld from her. This conviction had grown upon her ever since she had been a member of her family, and she hoped, by some means, if she remained long enough with her, to learn the truth. Still she feared that if Mrs. Montague should discover that she was her husband's daughter she might be so prejudiced against her she would at once dismiss her from her employ, and she would then lose her only chance to solve the questions that puzzled her. But she found it very hard to conceal the great and sudden joy that went thrilling through her as she listened to these facts regarding Ray Palmer's affection for and his loyalty to her. He had not been unworthy and faithless, as she had imagined; there had been some good reason why he had not come to her during the early days of her trouble. He might have been called suddenly away from New York on business and not been able to return until her home was broken up; and now he was grieving--"wearing the willow," as Mrs. Montague expressed it--because he could not find her. He loved her! he had been upon the point of telling her so, and this blissful knowledge made the world seem suddenly bright again to the hitherto depressed and grieving girl. But it would never do to betray anything of this, for then Mrs. Montague would know at once that _she_ was Mona Montague; so she made no sign that she was any more interested in this little romance regarding Ray Palmer's love, than she would have been in that of any stranger. She even forced herself to ignore him altogether, and ask, in a matter-of-fact way: "Is it not strange, if Mr. Dinsmore had a wife living, that he did not make some provision for his niece, by will?" "The girl _isn't_ Mona Montague after all, or she never would have asked such a question with that innocent air," said Mrs. Montague to herself, with some disappointment; "the strange resemblance must be only a coincidence, striking though it is. But I would really like to know where Walter Dinsmore's niece is. I feel as if I had an enemy in ambush all the time, for she would have it in her power to do me a great deal of harm if she could prove her identity. I am half sorry that Ruth doesn't prove to be she, for having her here, under my eye, I could manage her capitally." "Why, the papers discussed all that at the time," she remarked aloud, with some surprise. "There was considerable excitement over the affair, and sympathy was very strong for the niece. Didn't you read about it?" "No, I was very much engaged just then, and I did not read any account of it. There, these bows are ready, and I will sew them to the dress," Mona concluded, rising to get the garment, but trembling with nervous excitement in every limb.