"Why, it is a mirror! and what a queer one!" exclaimed the maiden, as she bent forward to look, and found her lovely, earnest face reflected from a square, slightly defaced mirror that was set in an ebony frame richly inlaid with gold and pearl. "Yes, dear, and it once belonged to Marie Antoinette. Doubtless it reflected her face many times during the latter half of the last century, as it now reflects yours, my Mona," said Mr. Dinsmore. "To Marie Antoinette?" repeated Mona, breathlessly, "to the Queen of France? and would you give it to me--_me_, Uncle Walter?" "Yes, I have kept it for you many years, dear," the man answered, but turning away from her eager, delighted eyes and glowing face, as if something in them smote him with sudden pain. "Oh! thank you, _thank_ you! It is a priceless gift. What can I say? How can I show you how delighted I am?" Mona cried, eagerly. "By simply accepting it and taking good care of it, and also by giving me your promise that you will never part with it while you live," Mr. Dinsmore gravely replied. "Of _course_ I would never part with it," the young girl returned, flushing. "The mere fact of your giving it to me would make it precious, not to mention that it is a royal mirror and once belonged to that beautiful but ill-fated queen. How did it happen to come into your possession, Uncle Walter?" The man grew pale at this question, but after a moment he replied, though with visible effort: "It was given to your great grandmother by a Madame Roquemaure, an intimate friend, who was at one time a lady in waiting at the court of Louis the Sixteenth." "What was her name?" eagerly asked Mona--"my grandmother's, I mean." "She was a French lady and her maiden name was Ternaux, and when her friend, Madame Roquemaure, died, she bequeathed to her this mirror, which once graced the dressing-room of Marie Antoinette in the Tuileries." "What a prize!" breathed Mona, as she gazed reverently upon the royal relic. "May I take it, Uncle Walter?" "Certainly," and the man lifted it from the box and laid it in her hands. "How heavy it is!" she exclaimed, flushing and trembling with excitement, as she clasped the precious treasure. "Yes, the frame is of ebony and quite a massive one," said Mr. Dinsmore. "It looks like a shallow box with the mirror for a cover; but of course it isn't, as there is no way to get into it," observed the young girl, examining it closely. Her companion made no reply, but regarded her earnestly, while his face was pale and his lips compressed with an expression of pain. "And this has been handed down from generation to generation!" Mona went on, musingly. "Have you had it all these years, Uncle Walter--ever since you first took me?"