True Love's Reward. Mrs. Georgie Sheldon
thanked him, after which he shook hands cordially with her, and she returned to West Forty-ninth street.
"Well, well!" muttered the lawyer, after his fair client had departed, "so that is Dinsmore's niece, who was to have had his fortune, if he could have had his way about it! I wonder what Madame Dinsmore would say if she knew that I had taken her husband's protégée as a client! It is a burning shame that she could not have had his money, if it was his wish—or at least a share of it. Poor little girl! after living in such luxury all her life, to have to come down to such a humdrum existence as sewing for a living! I will do my best for her—I will at least try to secure Homer Forester's money to her. It's strange, too, that I should happen to have dealings with the brilliant Mrs. Montague, also. It's a very queer case and there is a deep scheme behind it all! I believe—"
What he might have believed remained unsaid, for the office-boy entered at that moment and announced another client, and the astute lawyer was obliged to turn his attention, for the time, in another direction.
CHAPTER IV.
MR. CORBIN MAKES A CALL.
On the evening of the same day that Mona visited the office of Corbin & Russel, attorneys at law, and shortly after Mrs. Montague had finished her lonely dinner—for her nephew was away on business—there came a sharp ring at the door of No.—West Forty-ninth street.
Mary answered it, and, after ushering the gentleman into the reception-room, went to her mistress to inform her that a caller was waiting below.
"Erastus Corbin," Mrs. Montague read, as she took the neat card from the salver, and her face lighted with sudden interest.
"Perhaps he has sold that property for me," she murmured. "I hope so, for I wish to turn all my real estate into money, if possible, before my marriage."
She made some slight change in her costume, for she never allowed herself to go into the presence of gentlemen without looking her best, and then hastened below.
She greeted the lawyer with great cordiality, and remarked, smilingly:
"I hope you have good news for me. Is that property sold yet?"
"I cannot say that it is sold, madame," Mr. Corbin returned; "but I have had an offer for it, which, if you see fit to accept, will settle the matter very shortly."
"Tell me about it," said the lady, eagerly.
Mr. Corbin made a statement from a memorandum which he drew from his pocket, upon the conclusion of which Mrs. Montague authorized him to sell immediately, saying that she wished to dispose of all her real estate, even if she had to sacrifice something in doing so, remarking that a bank account was far less trouble than such property; and, having discussed and decided some other points, the lawyer arose as if to take his leave.
"Pray do not hasten," Mrs. Montague smilingly remarked.
She happened to have no engagement for the evening, and, being alone, was glad of even the companionship of a prosy attorney.
"Thank you," Mr. Corbin politely returned; "but I have other matters on hand which ought to be attended to."
"Surely you do not work evenings as well as during the day?" Mrs.
Montague observed, with some surprise.
"Not always; but just now I seem to have some very knotty cases on hand—one, in particular, seems to baffle all my skill with its mystery. Indeed, it bids fair to develop quite a romance."
"Indeed! you pique my curiosity, and we women are dear lovers of romance in real life, you know," said the charming widow, with an arch smile. "Would it be betraying confidence to tell me a little about it?" she added, persuasively.
"Oh no; the matter is no secret, that I know of, and really you are so cozy here," with an appreciative glance about the attractive room as he resumed his seat, "I am tempted to stay and chat a while. I recently received a communication from an English lawyer who desired to turn a case over to me, as it related to American parties, and he had no time to come here to look them up. A man who was on his way home from Australia, was taken ill in London and died there; but before his death he made his will, leaving all his property to a niece, although he did not know whether she was living or not. All the information he could give regarding her was her name, with the date and place of her birth. In case she should not be living, her heirs are to inherit the money. I have made every effort to find her—have been to the place where she was born—but can get no trace of her—no one remembered such a person, and I could not even learn whether she had ever married. I am afraid that the case will prove to be a very complicated and vexatious one."
"I should think so," responded Mrs. Montague, who appeared to be deeply interested in the story. "What was the girl's name?"
"Mona Forester."
"Mona Forester!" repeated the woman, in a startled tone, and growing as white as her handkerchief. "I didn't know she had a relative in the world, except—"
She abruptly paused, for she had been thrown entirely off her guard, and had committed herself, just as the wily lawyer intended and suspected.
A flash of triumph gleamed in his eyes for an instant at the success of his ruse.
"Ah! did you ever know of such a person?" he demanded, eagerly, and with well-feigned surprise.
"I—I knew of—a girl by that name before I was married," Mrs. Montague reluctantly admitted, and beginning to recover her composure.
"Where did she reside?"
"She was born in Trenton, New Jersey, I believe," was the evasive reply.
"Yes, my papers so state—and she must be the same person," said Mr.
Corbin, in a tone of conviction. "But that is very meager information.
Was Trenton your home also?"
"No, I lived in New York until my marriage."
"Was Miss Forester ever married?"
"Yes."
"Ah! how fortunate that I happened to mention this circumstance to you this evening!" exclaimed the lawyer, with great apparent satisfaction, but ignoring the evident reluctance of his companion to give him information. "Perhaps you can give more particulars. Whom did the lady marry?"
"Don't ask me anything about her, Mr. Corbin," Mrs. Montague cried, excitedly, and with an angry gesture. "The girl ruined my life—she loved the man I loved and—I hated her accordingly."
"But surely you can have no objection to telling me what you know of her history," returned Mr. Corbin, with assumed surprise. "I have this case to settle, and I simply wish to find the woman or her heirs, in order to do my duty and carry out the instructions of the will. It would assist me greatly if you could tell me where I might find her," he concluded, in an appealing tone.
"She is dead—she died more than eighteen years ago."
"Ah! where did she die?"
"Abroad—in London."
"Did she leave any heirs?"
"She died in giving birth to her only child."
"Did the child live?"
"I—believe so."
"Was it a son or a daughter?"
"The latter."
"What became of her—where is she now?"
"I do not know—I do not care!" were the vicious words which burst from the woman's white lips, and Mr. Corbin saw that she was greatly excited, while everything that she had said thus far went to corroborate the statements Mona had