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True Love's Reward by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon

M >> Mrs. Georgie Sheldon >> True Love\'s Reward




Louis Hamblin remained in Mrs. Montague's parlor until her return from
the concert, brooding over the failure of his purpose, and trying to
devise some scheme by which he could attain the desire of his heart.

He then gave her a faithful account of his interview with Mona, and they
sat far into the night and plotted how best to achieve their object.

Mrs. Montague was now as eager to have Louis marry Mona as she had
previously been determined to oppose it.

"I am bound that she shall never go into the Palmer family, if I can
prevent it," she said, with a frowning brow. "If I am to be mistress of
Mr. Palmer's home, I have no intention of allowing Mona Forester's child
to be a blot on my future happiness."

"You are complimentary, Aunt Marg, in your remarks regarding my future
wife," Louis sarcastically observed.

"I can't help it, Louis. I bear the girl no good-will, as you have known
from the first, and you must make up your mind to accept matters as they
are. You are determined to have her and I have given my consent to the
marriage from purely selfish motives," Mrs. Montague returned, in a
straightforward, matter-of-fact tone. "I would never have consented,"
she added, with a frown "if I had not feared that there is proof--besides
what we possess--of Mona Forester's legal marriage, and that through it
we might some time lose our fortune. I should be in despair to be obliged
to give it up--life without plenty of money is not worth living, and I
consider that I was very shrewd and fortunate in getting possession of
that certificate and those other things."

"Did you bring them with you when you left home?"

"No; I never thought of them," Mrs. Montague responded, with a start and
a look of anxiety. "It is the first time I ever came away from home
without them; but after I received that telegram and letter I had plenty
on my mind, I assure you--my chief aim was to get that girl out of New
York, and away to some safe place where we could work out our scheme."

"But you ought never to leave such valuables behind," said her nephew;
"the house might take fire, and they would be all destroyed."

"That would be but a small loss," the woman retorted. "I have thought a
hundred times that I would throw them all into the fire, and thus blot
out of existence all that remained of the girl I so hated; but whenever
I have attempted to do so I have been unaccountably restrained. But I
will do it as soon as we get home again," she resolutely concluded.

Louis Hamblin's eyes gleamed with a strange expression at this threat;
but he made no reply to it.

"But let us settle this matter of your marriage," she resumed, after a
moment of thought. "The girl shall marry you--I have brought her here for
that purpose, and if she will not be reasoned into compliance with our
wishes, she shall be compelled or tricked into it. But how, is the
question."

"I will agree to almost anything, so that I get her," remarked her
nephew, with a grim smile.

The clock on the mantel-piece struck two before they separated, but they
had decided on their plan of action, and only awaited the coming day to
develop it.

Meanwhile strange things had been happening in Mona's room.

We left her musing over her recent interview with Louis, and deeply
absorbed in making plans to obtain possession of the proofs of her
mother's marriage, which he had asserted he could produce.

The more she thought of the matter the more determined she became to
accomplish her purpose, and she began to grow very anxious to return
to New York to consult with Ray and Mr. Corbin.

"I wonder how much longer Mrs. Montague intends to remain here," she
murmured. "She said she should return within a fortnight, but nearly that
time has expired already. I cannot understand her object in prolonging
her stay, since she was disappointed about coming with the party. I
believe I will ask her to-morrow how soon we are to go back."

Mona felt very weary after the unusual excitement of the evening; her
nerves were also considerably unstrung, and she resolved not to wait for
Mrs. Montague's return, but retire at once.

She arose and began to prepare for bed, but having sent some clothing
away to be washed that morning, she found that her night-robe had gone
with the other articles, and unlocking her trunk, she began to look
for another.

"I thought I put an extra one in the tray," she mused, as she searched
for but failed to find it.

This obliged her to remove the tray and to unpack some of the contents
beneath.

While thus employed she took out a box, and without thinking what it
contained, carelessly set it across a corner of the trunk.

She finally found the garment she needed, and then began to replace the
clothing which she had been obliged to remove during her search.

While thus engaged she turned suddenly to reach for something that had
slipped from her grasp, and in the act she hit her elbow against the box
setting on the corner of her trunk, and knocked it to the floor.

"Oh! my mirror!" she cried, in a voice of terror, and hastily gathering
up the box, uncovered it to see if the precious relic had been injured.

To her great joy she found that it had not been broken by the fall; but
as she lifted it from the box, to examine it still further, the bottom of
the frame dropped out, and with it the things which Mr. Dinsmore had
concealed within it.

"Mercy!" Mona excitedly exclaimed; "it looks like a little drawer, and
here are some letters and a box which some one has hidden in it! Can it
be that these things once belonged to Marie Antoinette, and have been
inclosed in this secret place all these long years?" she wonderingly
questioned.

"No, surely not, for they would be yellow with age," she continued, as
she began to examine them.

"Ah!" with a start, and growing pale, "here is a letter addressed to
me--_For Mona_--and in Uncle Walter's handwriting! He must have known
about the secret of this mirror, and put these letters here with some
special object in view. What can it mean?"

She grew dizzy--almost faint with the excitement of her discovery, and
the things dropped from her nerveless fingers upon her lap.

"There is some secret here!" she whispered, as she gazed down at them, an
expression of dread in her startled eyes. "Perhaps it is the secret which
I have so long wanted to know! Can it be that the mystery of my mother's
sad fate is about to be solved--that Uncle Walter had not the courage to
tell me all, that never-to-be-forgotten morning, but wrote it out and hid
it here for me to find later? Ah!" and she lifted her head as if suddenly
recalling something, "this was what he tried to make me understand the
day he died! He sent me for the mirror, not to remind me to keep it
always, as I thought at the time, but to explain the secret of it, so
that I could find what he had hidden here. Oh, how he suffered because he
could not show me! Why could I not have understood?" and her tears fell
thick and fast, as she thus lived over again that painful experience.

She soon brushed them away, however, and lifting the mirror, examined it
carefully.

She found that the tiny drawer would shove smoothly in and out, and she
pushed it almost in, but took care not to quite close it.

"There must be a spring somewhere to hold it in place," she murmured,
regarding it curiously. "Ah! now I feel it! But how is it operated? How
can the drawer be opened again if I shut it entirely?"

She looked the mirror over most carefully, both on the back and front,
but at first could detect nothing. But at length, as she still continued
to work the drawer in and out, she noticed that the central pearl and
gold point at the top of the frame moved slightly as she pressed the
drawer close upon the spring, and she believed that she had discovered
the Secret of the Royal Mirror.

With a resolute air she shut it entirely and heard the click of the
spring as it shot into its socket. Her reason told her that pressure
applied to that central point of pearl and gold would at once release
the drawer again.

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 passion 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 assumption 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.

"Very well," Mona said, gravely, though reluctantly. "I will do as you
wish. At what hour does the steamer leave?"

"I don't know. I shall have to ask Louis, and I will tell you later. Now,
I wish you would baste some fresh ruching on my traveling dress, then you
may hem the new vail that you will find upon my dressing-case," and
having given these directions, Mrs. Montague hurried from the room to
find her nephew.

She met him in the hall, where he had been walking back and forth, for he
surmised what the nature of Mona's interview would be, and knew that the
time had come for him to act with boldness if he hoped to win the prize
he coveted.

"Come into your room, where we shall not be overheard," Mrs. Montague
whispered, and leading the way thither, they were soon holding an earnest
consultation over this unexpected interruption of the scheme which they
had arranged the night before.

They talked for half an hour, after which Mrs. Montague returned to her
parlor and Louis at once left the hotel.

He did not return until nearly lunch time, when, in Mona's presence, he
informed his aunt that the staterooms were secured, and the boat would
leave at seven that evening.

"If you will get your trunks ready I will send them aboard early, and
then I shall have no trouble about baggage at the last moment, and can
look after your wraps and satchels," he remarked, as he glanced
significantly at his aunt.

"Mine are ready to strap, and Ruth's was packed before breakfast, so they
can be sent off as soon as you like," Mrs. Montague returned.

He attended to the strapping of them himself, and a little later they
were taken away.

Mona wondered somewhat at this arrangement. She thought the trunks might
just as well have gone with them, but concluded that Louis did not wish
to be troubled with them at the last moment, as he had said.

At half-past six they left the hotel, and drove to the pier where the
steamboat lay.

Louis hurried the ladies on board, and to their staterooms, telling them
to make haste and get settled, as dinner would be served as soon as the
boat left the landing.

He had secured three staterooms for their use, another circumstance which
appeared strange to Mona, as she and Mrs. Montague had occupied one
together in coming down the river.

"Perhaps," she said to herself, "she is angry because I insisted upon
going home, and does not wish to have me with her. I believe, however,
I shall like it best by myself."

She arranged everything to her satisfaction, and then sat down by her
window to wait until the gong should sound for dinner, but a strange
feeling of depression and of homesickness seemed to settle over her
spirits, while her thoughts turned with wistful fondness to her lover so
far away in New York, and she half regretted that she had not insisted
upon returning by rail.

She wondered that she did not hear Mrs. Montague moving about in her
stateroom, but concluded that she had completed, her arrangements for the
night and gone on deck.

Presently the last signal was given, and the steamer swung slowly away
from the levee. A few moments later the gong sounded for dinner, and Mona
went out into the saloon to look for her companions.

She met Louis Hamblin at the door leading to the dining-saloon, but he
was alone.

"Where is Mrs. Montague?" Mona inquired, and wondering if he was going to
be sick, for he looked pale, and seemed ill at ease.

"Hasn't she been with you?" he asked, appearing surprised at her
question. "I thought she was in her stateroom."

"No, I did not hear her moving about," Mona replied, "so supposed she had
come out."

"Perhaps she is on deck; if you will wait here I will run up to look for
her," Louis remarked, and Mona sat down as he walked away.

He presently returned, but alone.

"She is not up stairs," he said; "I will go to her stateroom; perhaps she
has been lying down; she said she had a headache this afternoon."

Again he left Mona, but came back to her in a few minutes, saying:

"Yes, it is as I thought; she isn't feeling well, and doesn't care to go
down to dinner. I am to send her a cup of tea, and then she will retire
for the night. Shall we go down now? You must be hungry," he concluded,
smiling.

Mona would have much preferred to go by herself, and have him do the
same, but she did not wish to have any words with him about it, so
quietly followed him to the table, and took her seat beside him.

He was very polite and attentive, supplying all her wants in a thoughtful
but unobtrusive way, and did not once by word or look remind her of
anything disagreeable.

The dinner was a lengthy affair, and it was after eight when they left
the dining-saloon, when Mona at once retreated to her stateroom to rid
herself of Louis Hamblin's companionship. On her way thither she rapped
upon Mrs. Montague's door, and asked:

"Cannot I do something for you, Mrs. Montague?"

There was no response from within, and thinking she must be asleep, Mona
passed on to her own room.

It was growing quite dark, and Mona, feeling both weary and sleepy from
the restlessness and wakefulness of the previous night, resolved to
retire at once.

She felt really relieved, although a trifle lonely to be in a stateroom
by herself, but she fell asleep almost immediately, and did not awake
until the gong sounded for breakfast.

She felt much refreshed, and after dressing went and knocked upon Mrs.
Montague's door to inquire if she had rested well, and if she could do
anything for her.

There was no reply, and thinking perhaps she was still asleep, or had
already arisen, she went up on deck to get a breath of air before going
to breakfast.

"Why!" she exclaimed on looking around her, as she reached the deck, "how
very wide the river must be just here; I did not observe it to be so when
we came down; perhaps, though, we passed this point during the night, but
I did not suppose we could get out of sight of land on the Mississippi."

A storm was evidently brewing; indeed, it was already beginning to rain,
the wind blew, and the vessel rolled considerably.

Mona could see nothing of either Mrs. Montague or Louis, and found that
she could not walk about to search for them, for all at once she began to
feel strangely dizzy and faint.

"Can it be that I am going to be sick?" she murmured, "I was not coming
down, for there was not much motion to the boat, but now it rolls and
pitches as if it were out on the broad ocean."

She was growing rapidly worse, and, retreating to her stateroom, she
crept again into her berth, and rang for the stewardess.

She was ill all that day--so ill that she could not think of much but her
own feelings, although she did wonder now and then if Mrs. Montague was
prostrated like herself. She must be, she thought, or she certainly would
come to her.

Once she asked the stewardess if she was ill, and the woman had briefly
replied that everybody was sick, and then hurried out to answer some
other call.

But during the next day Mona began to rally, and the stewardess advised
her to go up on deck, saying that the fresh air would do much toward
improving her condition. She assisted her to dress, and helped her up
stairs to a chair, covered her with a warm robe, and then left her alone.

Mona at first was so faint and weary from her exertions that she did not
pay much attention to her surroundings. She lay with her eyes closed for
a while, but finally the air made her feel better, and she began to look
about her.

An expression of wonder and anxiety instantly overspread her white face.

Where were the banks of the river, so green and bright, which had made
the southward trip so delightful?

The sun was shining brightly, for the storm had passed and the sky
was cloudless, but, looking in every direction, she could discern no
land--all about her was but a wide waste of deep blue water.

"Why!" she cried, "I should think we were out at sea!"

She looked greatly disturbed, but just at that moment she saw Louis
Hamblin coming toward her, and she noticed that he also looked somewhat
pale, as if he, too, had been suffering from sea-sickness.

"You are really better," he smilingly observed as he reached her side;
"you have had a severe siege as well as I."

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