True Love's Reward. Mrs. Georgie Sheldon

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СКАЧАТЬ wanton destruction of what she would have regarded as priceless, but she dared make no sign, although she was trembling in every nerve.

      "Is the lady living?" she ventured to inquire, as she turned away, apparently to fold a dress, but really to conceal the painful quivering of her lips.

      "No. You can finish packing this trunk, then you may take these dresses to the sewing-room. You may begin ripping this brown one. And you may take the pieces of that picture down and tell Mary to burn them. I came up for a wrap; I am going for a drive."

      Mrs. Montague secured her wrap, then swept from the room, walking fiercely over the torn portrait, looking as if she would have been glad to trample thus upon the living girl whom she had so hated.

      Mona reverently gathered up the fragments, her lips quivering with pain and indignation.

      She laid them carefully together, but a bitter sob burst from her at the sight of the great ragged tears across the beautiful face.

      "Oh, mother, mother!" she murmured, "what an insult to you, and I was powerless to help it."

      She finished her packing, then taking the dresses that were to be made over, and the torn picture, she went below.

      She could not bear the thought of having that lovely face, marred though it was, consigned to the flames, yet she dare not disobey Mrs. Montague's command to give it to Mary to be burned.

      She waited until the girl came up stairs, then she called her attention to the pieces, and told her what was to be done with them.

      She at once exclaimed at the resemblance to Mona.

      "Where could Mrs. Montague have got it?" she cried; "it's enough like you, miss, to be your own mother, and a beautiful lady she must have been, too. It's a pity to burn the picture, Miss Ruth; wouldn't you like to keep it?"

      "Perhaps Mrs. Montague would prefer that no one should have it; she said it was to be destroyed, you know," Mona replied, but with a wistful look at the mutilated crayon.

      "You shall have it if you want it, and I'll fix it all right with her," said the girl, in a confidential tone, as she put the pieces back into Mona's hands. She had become very fond of the gentle seamstress, and would have considered no favor too great to be conferred upon her.

      That same afternoon, when Mona went out for her walk, she took the mutilated picture with her.

      She made her way directly to the rooms of a first-class photographer, and asked if the portrait could be copied.

      Yes, she was assured; there would be no difficulty about getting as good a picture as the original, only it would have to be all hand work.

      Mona said she would give the order if it could be done immediately, and, upon being told she could have the copy in three days, she said she would call for it at the end of that time.

      She did so, and found a perfect reproduction of her mother's face, and upon her return to Mrs. Montague's she gave the pieces of the other to Mary, telling her she believed she did not care to keep them—they had better be burned as her mistress had desired.

      This relieved her mind, for she did not wish the girl to practice any deception for her sake, and she feared that Mrs. Montague might inquire if her orders had been obeyed.

      The following day she took the fresh portrait with her when she went out, and proceeded directly to the office of Corbin & Russel, who had advertised for information regarding Mona Forester or her heirs.

      A gentlemanly clerk came forward as she entered, and politely inquired her business.

      She asked to see a member of the firm, and at the same time produced the slip which she had cut from the paper.

      The clerk's face lighted as he saw it, and his manner at once betrayed deep interest in the matter.

      "Ah, yes," he said, affably; "please walk this way. Mr. Corbin is in and will be glad to see you."

      He led the way to a private office, and, throwing open the door, respectfully remarked to some one within:

      "A lady to see you, sir, about the Forester business." Then turning to

       Mona, he added: "This is Mr. Corbin, miss."

      A gentleman, who was sitting before a desk, at once arose and came eagerly forward, scanning Mona's face with great earnestness.

      "Have a chair, if you please, Miss——. Be kind enough to tell me what I shall call you."

      "My name is Mona Montague," the young girl replied, a slight flush suffusing her cheek beneath his keen glance.

      The gentleman started as she spoke it, and regarded her more closely than before.

      "Miss Mona Montague!" he repeated, with a slight emphasis on the last name; "and you have called to answer the advertisement which recently appeared in the papers. What can you tell me about Miss Mona Forester?"

      "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 advertisement, from the fact of being Mona Forester's child. Her chief desire and hope had been to prove her mother's identity, 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 passed over his features.

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

      "Here СКАЧАТЬ