She tried it, and instantly it dropped out upon her lap.

"It is the strangest thing in the world. I feel almost as if I had opened a grave," she murmured, a shiver running along her nerves. "My heart almost fails me when I think of examining its contents--this letter addressed to me, this package of letters, and the tiny box. I wonder what there is in it?"

She looked strangely beautiful as she sat there upon the floor, her face startlingly pale, her eyes seeming larger than ever, with that wondering expression in their liquid depths, while she turned that little box over and over in her trembling hands, as if she tried to gather courage to untie the string that bound its cover on and look within it.

At last she threw up her head with a determined air, gathered up all the things she had found in the secret drawer, and rising, drew a chair to her table, where she sat down to solve the mystery.

CHAPTER XIII.

"I SHOULD THINK WE WERE OUT AT SEA!"

Mona's curiosity prompted her to examine the contents of the little box first.

She untied the narrow ribbon that was bound about it, lifted the cover and a layer of cotton, and discovered the two rings which we already know about.

"My mother's wedding and engagement-ring!" Mona breathed, seeming to know by instinct what they were. "They must have been taken from her fingers after she was dead, and Uncle Walter has kept them all these years for me. Oh, why could he not have told me about them? I should have prized them so." She lifted them from their snowy bed with reverent touch, remarking, as she did so, the size and great beauty of the diamond in the engagement-ring.

"My dear, deeply wronged mother! how I should have loved you!" she murmured. "I wonder if you know how tenderly I feel toward you; if you can see me now and realize that I, the little, helpless baby, for whose life you gave up your own, am longing for you with all my heart and soul."

She touched the rings tenderly with her lips, tears raining over her cheeks, while sob after sob broke from her.

She wiped away her tears after a little, and tried the rings upon her own fingers, smiling sadly to see how perfectly they fitted.

"Mamma's hand must have been about the size of mine," she said. "I think I must be very like her in every way."

She slipped the heavy gold band off and bent nearer the light to examine the inside, hoping to find some inscription upon it.

She found only the date, "June 6th, 1861."

"The date of her marriage," she whispered, a little smile of triumph lighting her face, then removing the other ring from her hand, she laid them both back in the box and put it one side, "Now for the letters,"

she said, taking up the one addressed to herself and carefully cutting one end across the envelope with a little knife taken from her pocket.

She unfolded the closely written sheets, which she drew from it, with hands that trembled with nervous excitement.

The next moment she was absorbed in their contents, and as she read a strange change came over her.

At first there was a quick start, accompanied by a low exclamation of surprise, then a look of wonder shot into her great brown eyes. Suddenly, as she hungrily devoured the pages, her color fled, even her lips became white, and an expression of keen pain settled about her mouth, but she read on and on with breathless interest, turning page after page, until she came to the last one, where she found her uncle's name signed in full.

"Now I know!" burst from her trembling lips, as the sheets fell from her nerveless hands and her voice sounded hollow and unnatural. "How very, very strange! Oh! Uncle Walter, why didn't you tell me? why didn't you--tell me?"

Her lips only formed those last words as her head fell back against her chair, all the light fading out of her eyes, and then she slipped away into unconsciousness. When she came to herself again she was cold, and stiff, and deathly sick.

At first she could not seem to remember what had happened, for her mind was weak and confused. Then gradually all that had occurred came back to her.

She shivered and tried feebly to rub something of natural warmth into her chilled hands, then suddenly losing all self-control, she bowed her face upon them, and burst into a pa.s.sion of tears.

"Oh, if I had only known before," she murmured over and over again, with unspeakable regret.

But she was worn out, and this excitement could not last.

She made an effort to regain her composure, gathered up the scattered sheets of her uncle's letter, restoring them to the envelope, and then took up the other package which was bound with a scarlet ribbon.

There were half a dozen or more letters and all superscribed in a bold, handsome hand.

"They are my father's letters to my mother," Mona murmured, "but I have no strength to read them to-night."

She put them back, with the other things, into the secret drawer in the mirror, which she restored to its box, and then carefully packed it away in her trunk, with all her clothing except what she wished to put on in the morning.

"I shall go back to New York to-morrow," she said, with firmly compressed lips, as the last thing was laid in its place. "I cannot remain another day in the service of such a woman; and, since I have now learned everything, there is no need; I must go back to Ray and--happiness."

A tender smile wreathed her lips as she prepared to retire, but she could not sleep after she was in bed, even though she was weak and exhausted from the excitement of the last few hours, for her nerves throbbed and tingled with every beat of her pulses, and it was not until near morning that slumber came to her relief.

She was awake long before the gong for breakfast sounded, however, and rising immediately dressed herself for traveling, after which she finished packing, and then went down to breakfast with a grave, resolute face, which betrayed that she had some fixed purpose in her mind.

Mrs. Montague regarded her with some surprise as she noticed her dress, but she made no remark, although she looked troubled and anxious.

As soon as they arose from the table Mona went directly up stairs again, and waited at the door of Mrs. Montague's parlor until that lady made her appearance.

Louis was with her, but Mona ignored his presence, and quietly asked:

"Can I see you alone for a few moments, Mrs. Montague?"

"Certainly," she replied, giving the girl a sharp, curious glance, and immediately preceded her into the room. "Well?" she inquired, turning and facing her, the moment the door was closed, as if already she suspected what was coming.

"I simply wanted to tell you that I am going to return to New York to-day," Mona said, in a tone which plainly indicated that no argument would serve to change her determination.

"Aren't you somewhat premature in your movements? What is your reason for wanting to go home in such a hurry?" Mrs. Montague demanded, with some asperity.

"There are a number of reasons. I have some business to attend to, for one thing," Mona answered.

Mrs. Montague appeared startled by this unlooked-for reply. She had expected that she would complain of Louis' persecution of the previous evening.

"Do you think it just fair, Ruth, to leave me at such short notice?" she inquired, after thinking a moment.

"I am very sorry if my going will annoy you," Mona said, "but you will have Mr. Hamblin for an escort, and so you will not be left alone. I have made up my mind to go, and I would like to leave at as early an hour as possible."

Mrs. Montague saw that it would be useless to oppose her, but a look of cunning leaped into her eyes as she returned, with an a.s.sumption of graceful compliance:

"Then we will all go. A few days will not matter much with me; I have been disappointed in almost everything since leaving home, and I am about ready to go back myself. I am sure I do not wish to keep you if you are unhappy or discontented, and so we will take the afternoon boat if you like. I feel a certain responsibility regarding you, and could not think of allowing you to return alone and unprotected," she interposed, a curious smile curving her lips; then she added: "I will have Louis go to secure staterooms immediately, and you can do your packing as soon as you like."

"It is all done. I am ready to go at any hour, but," and Mona flushed, "I should prefer to go by rail, as we could reach New York much more quickly than by boat."

Mrs. Montague frowned at this remark.

"Pray do not be in such an unnecessary hurry, Ruth," she said, with some impatience. "It is much pleasanter traveling by boat than by rail at this season of the year, and I enjoy the water far more. I think you might oblige one by yielding that much," and the woman watched her anxiously as she awaited her reply.