"I wish you would not question me any further, Mona," he said, in a constrained tone. "Your father forfeited all right to that title from you before your birth. Cannot you be satisfied with what I have already told you?" "No, I cannot," she resolutely replied. "Where did he go? What happened to him after my mother died? Has he ever been heard of since?" were the quick, imperative queries which dropped from her lips. "Oh, yes," said Mr. Dinsmore, replying to the last query; "he married Miss Barton--the girl his aunt had chosen for him--shortly after his return to this country. The woman had set her heart upon the match, and died a month after the marriage, leaving her nephew the whole of her fortune." "Did he--my father--know that he had a child living?" demanded Mona, in a constrained tone. "Certainly." "And--and--" she began, with crimson cheeks and blazing eyes, then choked and stopped. "I know what you would ask--'did he ever wish to claim you?'" supplemented her companion, a bitter smile curling his white lips. "I have never been asked to give you up, Mona," he continued, apparently putting it thus so as to wound her as little as possible; "but I should not have done so under any circumstances." "Did he never offer to settle anything upon me out of his abundance?" the young girl asked, bitterly. "No; no settlement, no allowance was ever made, I alone have cared for you. But do not grieve--it has been a very delightful care to me, dear," Mr. Dinsmore said, tenderly, while he stroked her soft hair fondly with a hand that was far from steady. "Is the--man living now?" Mona demanded, a cold glitter in her usually gentle eyes. Mr. Dinsmore threw out his hand with a gesture of agony at this question. Then suddenly pulling himself together, he hoarsely responded: "No." But he turned his face away from her gaze as he said it. "When and where did he die?" "Do not ask me. Oh, Mona, for pity's sake, ask me nothing more. I cannot, I will not bear this inquisition any longer," the man cried, in a despairing tone. The young girl's face blanched suddenly at this, and she turned a wild, startled look upon her companion, as a terrible suspicion flashed into her mind. Had her uncle avenged her mother's wrongs?--was his hand stained with her father's blood, and was this the reason why he was so fearfully agitated in speaking of these things? It was an awful thought, and for a moment, every nerve in her body tingled with pain. All her strength fled, and she dared not question him further on that point, for her own sake, as well as his. There was a dead silence for several moments, while both struggled for the mastery of their emotions; then Mona said, in a low, awed tone: "Just one thing more, Uncle Walter--is--his other wife living?" "I believe so." "Where is she?" "I do not know." "Did she care nothing for me?" "No, she hated your mother, and you a hundred-fold on her account."