The young girl's face blanched suddenly at this, and she turned a wild, startled look upon her companion, as a terrible suspicion flashed into her mind.
Had her uncle avenged her mother's wrongs?—was his hand stained with her father's blood, and was this the reason why he was so fearfully agitated in speaking of these things?
It was an awful thought, and for a moment, every nerve in her body tingled with pain. All her strength fled, and she dared not question him further on that point, for her own sake, as well as his.
There was a dead silence for several moments, while both struggled for the mastery of their emotions; then Mona said, in a low, awed tone:
"Just one thing more, Uncle Walter—is—his other wife living?"
"I believe so."
"Where is she?"
"I do not know."
"Did she care nothing for me?"
"No, she hated your mother, and you a hundred-fold on her account."