"Then you are of course the sole heir, and will have the whole of his
handsome fortune--the will would only have been a matter of form. Mr.
Dinsmore was a very rich man, Miss Montague, and I congratulate you upon
being the heiress to a large fortune," the lawyer continued, with hearty
sincerity in his tone.

But Mona looked, up at him with streaming eyes.

"Oh! but I would rather have my uncle back than all the wealth of the
world!" she cried, with quivering lips.

"True. I know that your loss is irreparable--one that no amount of money
can make up to you," was the kind and sympathetic response. Then the man
returned to business again, "But--do you mind telling me your age, Miss
Montague?"

"I was eighteen the day before my uncle died," the stricken girl replied,
with a keen heart-pang, as she recalled that eventful day.

"You are very young to have care of so much property," said the lawyer,
gravely. "What would be your wish as to the management of it? You ought
really to have a guardian for the next few years. If you will designate
some one whom you would wish, and could trust to act as such, I will
gladly assist in putting Mr. Dinsmore's affair in convenient shape for
him."

"You are very good, Mr. Graves," Mona thoughtfully returned. Then she
added, wistfully: "Why cannot _you_ act as my guardian? I know of no one
in whom I have so much confidence. Uncle Walter trusted you, and surely
there can be no one who understands his affairs as well as you do."