"Do not ask me, child," the excited man returned, almost fiercely, but white to his lips, "he deserves only your hatred and contempt, as he has mine. Your mother, as you have been told, died in London, a much wronged and broken-hearted woman, where she had lived for nearly three months in almost destitute circumstances. The moment I learned of her sad condition I hastened to London to give her my care and protection; but she was gone--she had died three days before my arrival, and I found only a wee little baby awaiting my care and love." A bitter sob burst from the man's lips at this point, but after struggling for a moment for self-control, he resumed: "That baby was, of course, yourself, and I named you Mona for your mother, and Ruth for mine. The names do not go together very well, but I loved them both so well I wanted you to bear them, I gave you in charge of a competent nurse, with instructions that everything should be done for your comfort and welfare; then I sought to drown my grief in travel and constant change of scene. When I returned to London you were nearly two years old and a lovely, winning child, I brought you, with your nurse, to America, resolving that you should always have the tenderest love and care; and Mona, my darling, I have tried to make your life a happy one." "And you have succeeded. Uncle Walter, I have never known a sorrow, you have been my best and dearest friend, and I love you--I love you with all my heart," the fair girl cried, as she threw her arm about his neck and pressed her quivering lips to his corrugated brow. Mr. Dinsmore folded her close to his breast, and held her there in a silent embrace for a moment. But Mona's mind was intent upon hearing the remainder of his story; and, gently disengaging herself, she continued: "But tell me--there is much more that I want to know. What was the reason--why did my father--" She was suddenly cut short in her inquiries by the opening of a door and the entrance of a servant. "There is a caller for you in the drawing-room, Miss Mona," the girl remarked, as she extended to her the silver salver, on which there lay a dainty bit of pasteboard. Mona took it and read the name engraved upon it. "It is Susie Leades," she said, a slight look of annoyance sweeping over her face, "and I suppose I must go; but you will tell me the rest some other time, Uncle Walter? I shall never be content until I know all there is to know about my father and mother." "Yes--yes; some other time I will tell you more," Mr. Dinsmore said, but with a sigh of relief, as if he were glad of this interruption in the midst of a disagreeable subject. "I will leave the mirror here until I come back," Mona said, as she laid it again in its box in the drawer; then, softly kissing her companion on the lips, she went slowly and reluctantly from the room.