"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 embarrassment, "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?"