"Who married your mother?" questioned Louis Hamblin, in a mocking tone.
"Yes; they were legally married. I at least know that much," said Mona, positively, determined to make him think she fully believed it.
"How did you learn so much?"
"My uncle assured me of the fact only the day before he died."
"Your uncle? You mean Walter Dinsmore, I suppose?"
"Yes; of course."
"How much of your history did he reveal to you?" questioned the young man, eagerly.
"I do not feel under any obligation to tell you that," Mona coldly answered.
"Now, Miss Montague," Louis said, with well assumed frankness and friendliness, "why will you persist in treating me as an enemy? Why will you not have confidence in me, and allow me to help you? I know your whole history—I know, too, from what you have said, that you are ignorant of much that is vital to your interests, and which I could reveal to you, if I chose. Now forget any unpleasantness that may have arisen between us, tell me just what you hoped to learn by remaining in my aunt's family, and, believe me, I stand ready to help you."
Mona lifted her great liquid brown eyes, and searched his face.