"She was my mother, sir," Mona replied, as she seated herself in the chair offered her. "At least," she added, "my mother's name was Mona Forester before her marriage."

"Well, then, young lady, if you can prove that the Mona Forester, for whom we have advertised, was your mother, there is a snug little sum of money awaiting your disposal," the gentleman smilingly remarked.

Mona looked astonished. She had scarcely given a thought to reaping any personal advantage, as had been hinted in the advertis.e.m.e.nt, from the fact of being Mona Forester's child. Her chief desire and hope had been to prove her mother's ident.i.ty, and to learn something more, if possible, of her personal history.

She was somewhat excited by the information, but removing the wrapper from her picture, she arose and laid it before Mr. Corbin, remarking:

"This is a portrait of Mona Forester, and she was my mother."

Mr. Corbin took the crayon and studied the beautiful face intently for a few moments; then turning his glance again upon his visitor, he said, in a tone of conviction:

"There can be no doubt that you and the original of this picture are closely united by ties of consanguinity, for your resemblance to her is very striking. You spoke in the past tense, however, so I suppose the lady is not living."

"No, sir; she died at the time of my birth," Mona answered, sadly.

"Ah! that was very unfortunate for you," Mr. Corbin remarked, in a tone of sympathy. "You gave your name as Mona Montague, so, of course, Miss Forester must have married a gentleman by that name. May I ask--ah--is he living?"

"No, sir, he is not."

"Will you kindly give me his whole name?" Mr. Corbin now asked, while his eyes had a gleam of intense interest within their dark depths.

"Richmond Montague."

Again the lawyer started, and a look of astonishment pa.s.sed over his features.

"Where have you lived, Miss Montague, since the death of your parents?"

he inquired.

"Here in New York, with my uncle."

"Ah! and who was your uncle, if you please?" and the man seemed to await her reply with almost breathless interest.

"Mr. Dinsmore--Walter Dinsmore."

The lawyer sat suddenly erect, and drew in a long breath, while his keen eyes seemed to be trying to read the girl's very soul.

He did not speak for nearly a minute; then he said, with his usual composure:

"So, then, you are the niece of Walter Dinsmore, Esq., who died recently, and whose property was claimed by a--a wife who had lived separate from him for a good many years."

Mona flushed hotly at this remark. It seemed almost like a stain upon her uncle's fair name to have his domestic affairs spoken of in this way, and she had been very sore over the revelation that he had had a discarded wife living.

"Yes, sir," she briefly responded, but with an air of dignity that caused a gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt to leap to the lawyer's eyes.

"Well--it is very queer," he remarked, musingly, while his eyes traveled back and forth between the picture he held in his hands and the face of the beautiful girl before him.

Mona looked a trifle surprised--she could not understand what was "queer"

in the fact that she was Walter Dinsmore's niece.

"I suppose," resumed Mr. Corbin, after another season of reflection, during which he looked both grave and perplexed, "that you have the _proofs_ of all that you claim? You can prove that you are the daughter of Mona Forester and--Richmond Montague?"

Again Mona blushed, and hot tears of grief and shame rushed to her eyes, as, all at once, it flashed into her mind that her errand there would be a fruitless one, for she was utterly powerless to prove anything, while the peculiar emphasis which Mr. Corbin had almost unconsciously used in speaking of her father made her very uncomfortable. She had hoped to learn more than she had to reveal, and that her strong resemblance to her mother's picture would be sufficient to prove the relationship between them; but now she began to fear that it would not.

"What proofs do I need?" she asked, in a voice that was not quite steady.

"The marriage certificate of the contracting parties, or some witness of the ceremony, besides some reliable person who can identify you as their child," was the business-like response.

"Then I can prove nothing," Mona said, in a weary tone, "for I have no certificate, no letters, not even a sc.r.a.p of writing penned by either my father or my mother."

A peculiar expression swept over Mr. Corbin's face at this statement, and Mona caught sight of it.

"What could it mean?" she asked herself, with a flash of anger that was quite foreign to her amiable disposition. "Did the man imagine her to be an impostor, or did he suspect that there might have been no legal bond between her parents?"

This latter thought made her tingle to her fingertips, and aroused all her proud spirit.

"I can at least prove that I am Walter Dinsmore's niece," she added, lifting her head with a haughty air, while her thoughts turned to Mr.

Graves, her uncle's lawyer. He at least knew and could testify to the fact. "He took me," she continued, "three days after mother's death, and I lived with him from that time until he died."

"Ah! and your mother was Mr. Dinsmore's sister?" questioned Mr. Corbin.

"Yes. I always supposed, until within a few days, that she was his own sister," Mona said, thinking it best to be perfectly open in her dealings with the lawyer; "that her name was Mona Dinsmore; but only this week I learned that it was Mona Forester, so, of course, she must have been a half-sister."

"Well, if you can prove what you have stated it may lead to further developments," said Mr. Corbin, kindly. "Let me examine your proofs, and then I shall know what to do next."

A sudden fear smote Mona--a great shock made her heart almost cease its beating at the lawyer's request.

What proofs had she for him to examine? How could she establish the absolute fact?

It was true that her uncle had authorized a will to be made leaving all his property to his "beloved niece," but he had not been able to sign it, and it of course amounted to nothing. Must even this relationship be denied her in law? Oh, why had he not been more careful in regard to her interests? It was very hard--it was very humiliating to have her ident.i.ty thus doubted.

"Mr. Horace Graves was my uncle's lawyer; he will tell you that I am his niece," she faltered, with white lips.

"My dear young lady, I know Mr. Graves, and that he is a reliable man,"

Mr. Corbin observed; "but a hundred people might a.s.sert that you were Mr.

Dinsmore's niece, and it would not prove anything. Don't you know that to satisfy the law upon any point there must be indisputable proof forthcoming; there must be some written record--something tangible to demonstrate it, or it amounts to nothing? You may be the niece of Mr.

Dinsmore; you may be the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Richmond Montague; this may be the portrait of Miss Mona Forester; but the facts would have to be established before your claim could be recognized and the property bequeathed to Miss Forester made over to you."

"Oh," cried Mona, in deep distress, "what, then, shall I do? I do not care so much about the property as I do about learning more about my mother. I will tell you frankly," she went on, with burning cheeks and quivering lips, "that I know there is some mystery connected with her married life; my uncle told me something, but I have reason to believe that he kept back much that I ought to know," and Mona proceeded to relate all that Mr. Dinsmore had revealed to her on her eighteenth birthday, while the lawyer listened with evident interest, his face expressing great sympathy for his fair young visitor.

"I am very glad to have you confide in me so freely," he remarked, when she concluded, "and I will deal with equal frankness with you so far as I may. Our reason for advertising for information regarding Miss Mona Forester was this: I received recently a communication from a lawyer in London, desiring me to look up a person so named, and stating that a certain Homer Forester--a wool merchant of Australia--had just died in London while on his way home to America, and had left in his lawyer's hands a will bequeathing all that he possessed to a niece, Miss Mona Forester, or her heirs, if she was not living. The date and place of her birth were given, but further than that Homer Forester could give no information regarding her."

"Where was she born?" Mona here interposed, eagerly, "Oh, sir, it is strange and dreadful that I should be so ignorant of my own mother's history, is it not?"

"Miss Forester, according to the information given in her uncle's will, was born in Trenton, New Jersey, March 10th, 1843, but that is all that I can tell you about her," bestowing a glance of sympathy upon the agitated girl. "You say that she died at the time of your birth. I wish you could bring me proof of this and that you are her daughter; but of course your mere a.s.sertion proves nothing, nor your possession of this picture, which may or may not be her. Believe me, I should be very glad to surrender this property to you if it rightly belongs to you."

"Of course I should like to have it, if I am the legal heir," Mona said, thoughtfully; "but," with a proud uplifting of her pretty head, "I can do without it, for I am able to earn my own living."

"Is there no one to whom you can appeal? How about Mr. Dinsmore's wife, who succeeded in getting all his property away from you--could she prove anything?" and Mr. Corbin regarded his companion with curious interest as he asked the question.