By Bertha M. Clay. ....9--The Virginia Heiress. By May Agnes Fleming. ....8--Beautiful but Poor. By Julia Edwards. ....7--Two Keys. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. ....5--The Senator's Favorite. Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller. ....4--For a Woman's Honor. By Bertha M. Clay. ....3--He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not. By Julia Edwards. ....2--Ruby's Reward. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. ....1--Queen Bess. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. Guy Kenmore's Wife OR HER MOTHER'S SECRET BY MRS. ALEX. MCVEIGH MILLER AUTHOR OF "Jaquelina," "An Old Man's Darling," "A Little Southern Beauty," "The Senator's Bride," etc. [Illustration] NEW YORK STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS 238 WILLIAM STREET Copyright, 1883, By NORMAN L. MUNRO Copyright, 1901, By STREET & SMITH GUY KENMORE'S WIFE; OR, HER MOTHER'S SECRET. By MRS. ALEX. McVEIGH MILLER. CHAPTER I. "The moonlight lay on the garden wall, And bathed each path in a silver glow; And over the towers of the grey hall Its pearly banner was trailing low." It was a night of nights. Moonlight--the silvery, mystical, entrancing, love-breathing, moonlight of exquisite June--fairest daughter of the year--lay over all the land. The bay--our own beautiful Chesapeake--shone gloriously in the resplendent light, and rolled its foam-capped, phosphorescent waves proudly on to the grand Atlantic. "Ten thousand stars were in the sky, Ten thousand in the sea. "For every wave with dimpled crest That leaped upon the air, Had caught a star in its embrace, And held it trembling there!" A wind from the sea--cool, and salty, and delicious--came up to Bay View House, and stole in with the moonlight to the lace-draped windows of the parlor where a crumpled little figure crouched in a forlorn white heap on the wide, old-fashioned window sill, sobbing desperately through the plump little hands, in which the girlish face was hidden. The spacious parlor with its handsome, old-fashioned furniture, and open piano, was deserted, and the weeping of the girl echoed forlornly through the room, and blended strangely with the whispers of the wind, and the sounds of the sea. Old Faith put her grotesque, white-capped head inside the parlor door. "Miss Irene, darling, won't you come and take your tea now?" said she, persuasively. "There's strawberry short-cake, and the reddest strawberries, and yellowest cream," added she, artfully appealing to the young lady's well-known epicurean tastes. A sharp little voice answered back from the window seat: "I won't take a thing, Faith; I mean to starve myself to death!" "Oh, fie, my dearie, don't, now," cried Faith. "Come up-stairs, and let me tuck you in your little white bed, there's a love!" "I won't, so there! Go away and leave me alone, Faith," cried the girl, through her stifled, hysterical sobs. Exit Faith.