"I do not know--I have never even seen her," said Mona, thoughtfully; "or, at least, if I have, it must have been when I was too young to remember anything about her; besides, I should not know where to find her. There is only one person in the world, I believe, who really knows anything about me."

"And who is that?" interposed Mr. Corbin, eagerly.

"Mrs. Richmond Montague, my father's second wife."

Mr. Corbin suddenly arose from his chair, and began to pace the floor, while, if she had been watching him closely, Mona might have seen that his face was deeply-flushed.

"Hum! Mrs. Richmond Montague--is--Where is Mrs. Richmond Montague?" he questioned, somewhat incoherently.

"Here, in this city."

"Then why do you not appeal to her?" demanded the lawyer, studying the girl's face with some perplexity.

"Because--there are reasons why I do not wish to meet her just at present," Mona said, with some embarra.s.sment, "and I do not know that she would be able to prove anything. To be frank," she continued, with increasing confusion, "the present Mrs. Montague entertained a strong dislike, even hatred, against my mother. Doubtless her animosity extends to me also, and she would not be likely to prove anything that would personally benefit me."

"You have not a very high opinion of Mrs. Richmond Montague, I perceive,"

Mr. Corbin remarked, with a curious smile.

"I have nothing special against her personally, any further than that I know she hated my mother, and I do not wish to meet her at present. Why,"

with sudden thought, "could not you try to ascertain from her some facts regarding my mother's marriage?"

"I might possibly," said Mr. Corbin, gravely, "but that would not benefit you; you would be obliged to meet her in order to be identified as Mona Forester's child."

"I had not thought of that," replied Mona, with a troubled look, "and,"

she added, "she could not even identify me to your satisfaction, for she never saw me to know me as Mona Montague."

"_As Mona Montague!_" repeated the quick-witted lawyer; "does she know you by any other name? Are you not keeping something back which it would be well for me to know?"

"Yes; I will tell you all about it," Mona said, flushing again, and resolving to disclose everything. She proceeded to relate the singular circ.u.mstances which led to her becoming an inmate of Mrs. Montague's home, together with the incident of finding her mother's picture in one of her trunks.

"Ah! I think this throws a little light upon the matter," Mr. Corbin said, when she concluded. "If you had told me these facts at first we should have saved time. And you never saw this woman until you met her in her own house?" he asked, in conclusion, and regarding Mona searchingly.

"No, never; and had it not been for the hope of learning something about my mother's history, I believe I should have gone away again immediately," she replied.

"I should suppose she would have recognized you at once, by your resemblance to this picture," remarked her companion.

"She did notice it, and questioned me quite closely; but I evaded her, and she finally thought that the resemblance was only a coincidence."

"Well, I must confess that the affair is very much mixed--_very_ much mixed," said the lawyer, with peculiar emphasis, "but I believe, now that I know the whole story, that the truth can be ascertained if right measures are used; _and_," he continued, impressively, "if we can prove that you are what you a.s.sert, the only child of Richmond Montague and Mona Forester, you will not only inherit the money left by Homer Forester, but, being the child of the first union--provided we can prove it legal--you could also claim the bulk of the property which your father left. Mrs. Montague, if she should suspect our design, would, of course, use all her arts to conceal the truth; but I imagine, by using a little strategy, we may get at it. Yes, Miss Montague, if we can only work it up it will be a beautiful case--a _beautiful_ case," he concluded, with singular enthusiasm.

Mona gave utterance to a sigh of relief. She was more hopeful than ever that the mystery, which had so troubled her, would be solved, and she was very grateful to the kind-hearted lawyer for the deep interest he manifested in the matter.

"You are very good," she said, as she arose to take her leave; "but really, as I have said before, I am not so anxious to secure property as I am to know more about my parents. Do you suppose," she questioned, with some anxiety, "that the enmity between my uncle and my father was so bitter that--that Uncle Walter was in any way responsible for his--my father's--death?"

"Poor child! have you had that terrible fear to contend against with all your other troubles?" asked Mr. Corbin, in a tone of compa.s.sion. "No, Miss Montague," he added, with grave positiveness, "I do not believe that Walter Dinsmore--and I knew him well--ever willfully committed a wrong against any human being. Now," he resumed, smiling, to see the look of trouble fade out of her eyes at his a.s.surance, "I am going to try to ferret out the 'mystery' for you. Come to me again in a week, and I believe I shall have something definite to tell you."

Mona thanked him, after which he shook hands cordially with her, and she returned to West Forty-ninth street.

"Well, well!" muttered the lawyer, after his fair client had departed, "so that is Dinsmore's niece, who was to have had his fortune, if he could have had his way about it! I wonder what Madame Dinsmore would say if she knew that I had taken her husband's _protegee_ as a client! It is a burning shame that she could not have had his money, if it was his wish--or at least a share of it. Poor little girl! after living in such luxury all her life, to have to come down to such a humdrum existence as sewing for a living! I will do my best for her--I will at least try to secure Homer Forester's money to her. It's strange, too, that I should happen to have dealings with the brilliant Mrs. Montague, also. It's a very queer case and there is a deep scheme behind it all! I believe--"

What he might have believed remained unsaid, for the office-boy entered at that moment and announced another client, and the astute lawyer was obliged to turn his attention, for the time, in another direction.

CHAPTER IV.

MR. CORBIN MAKES A CALL.

On the evening of the same day that Mona visited the office of Corbin & Russel, attorneys at law, and shortly after Mrs. Montague had finished her lonely dinner--for her nephew was away on business--there came a sharp ring at the door of No.--West Forty-ninth street.

Mary answered it, and, after ushering the gentleman into the reception-room, went to her mistress to inform her that a caller was waiting below.

"Erastus Corbin," Mrs. Montague read, as she took the neat card from the salver, and her face lighted with sudden interest.

"Perhaps he has sold that property for me," she murmured. "I hope so, for I wish to turn all my real estate into money, if possible, before my marriage."

She made some slight change in her costume, for she never allowed herself to go into the presence of gentlemen without looking her best, and then hastened below.

She greeted the lawyer with great cordiality, and remarked, smilingly:

"I hope you have good news for me. Is that property sold yet?"

"I cannot say that it is sold, madame," Mr. Corbin returned; "but I have had an offer for it, which, if you see fit to accept, will settle the matter very shortly."

"Tell me about it," said the lady, eagerly.

Mr. Corbin made a statement from a memorandum which he drew from his pocket, upon the conclusion of which Mrs. Montague authorized him to sell immediately, saying that she wished to dispose of all her real estate, even if she had to sacrifice something in doing so, remarking that a bank account was far less trouble than such property; and, having discussed and decided some other points, the lawyer arose as if to take his leave.

"Pray do not hasten," Mrs. Montague smilingly remarked.

She happened to have no engagement for the evening, and, being alone, was glad of even the companionship of a prosy attorney.

"Thank you," Mr. Corbin politely returned; "but I have other matters on hand which ought to be attended to."

"Surely you do not work evenings as well as during the day?" Mrs.

Montague observed, with some surprise.

"Not always; but just now I seem to have some very knotty cases on hand--one, in particular, seems to baffle all my skill with its mystery.

Indeed, it bids fair to develop quite a romance."

"Indeed! you pique my curiosity, and we women are dear lovers of romance in real life, you know," said the charming widow, with an arch smile.

"Would it be betraying confidence to tell me a little about it?" she added, persuasively.

"Oh no; the matter is no secret, that I know of, and really you are so cozy here," with an appreciative glance about the attractive room as he resumed his seat, "I am tempted to stay and chat a while. I recently received a communication from an English lawyer who desired to turn a case over to me, as it related to American parties, and he had no time to come here to look them up. A man who was on his way home from Australia, was taken ill in London and died there; but before his death he made his will, leaving all his property to a niece, although he did not know whether she was living or not. All the information he could give regarding her was her name, with the date and place of her birth. In case she should not be living, her heirs are to inherit the money. I have made every effort to find her--have been to the place where she was born--but can get no trace of her--no one remembered such a person, and I could not even learn whether she had ever married. I am afraid that the case will prove to be a very complicated and vexatious one."

"I should think so," responded Mrs. Montague, who appeared to be deeply interested in the story. "What was the girl's name?"