Mrs. Montague sprang up the moment the girl entered the room, and
snatching the portrait from her hands, dashed it upon the bed of glowing
coals in the grate.

"When I give an order I want it obeyed," she said, imperiously. "Now go
and bring me the water."

Mary withdrew again, wondering what could have happened to make her
mistress so out of sorts, and finally came to the conclusion that the
lawyer must have brought her bad news.

"There! that is the last of that!" Mrs. Montague said, as she watched the
flames curl about the beautiful face in the grate. "I'm glad the girl
didn't keep the picture herself; I believe that all my previous
suspicions would have been aroused if she had. It _can't_ be that _she_
is Mona's child, for she has always been so indifferent when I have
questioned her. Possibly she may be a descendant of some other branch of
the family, and does not know it. My only regret is that I did not try to
see that other girl before Walter Dinsmore died; then I should have been
sure. I wonder where she can be? And to think that Mona Forester should
have had an uncle to turn up just at this time! I didn't suppose she had
a relative in the world besides the child."

Her musings were cut short at this point by the return of Mary with the
water. She poured out a glassful for her mistress, and then was told that
she might go.

The lady set down the glass without even tasting its contents; then
rising, went to the door and locked it, after which she walked to a small
table which stood in a bay-window, and removed the marble top, carefully