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?"

"Yes, and I have been keeping it for you until you should reach your
eighteenth birthday. It is yours now, my Mona, but you must never part
with it--it is to be an heir-loom. And if you should ever be married,
if you should have children, you are to give it to your eldest daughter.
And, oh! my child," the agitated man continued, as he arose and laid his
hands upon her shoulders and looked wistfully into her beautiful face,