"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."