“Yes,” Mona interposed.  “Uncle Walter told me of the birth of a little girl, but that she never lived to call him father.”

“I wonder what he meant by that?” said Mr. Graves with a start; “that the child came into the world lifeless?  If such was the case, then your claim to the estate is still good.”

“I supposed from what he said that it was born lifeless; still his words were somewhat ambiguous—­even if she had lived several months, she might not have lived long enough to call him father!”

“Well, the woman asserts that the infant lived for a few hours, and brings the records to prove it, and claims that she is Mr. Dinsmore’s only legitimate heir, through her child,” Mr. Graves explained.

“And is she?—­is that true?” Mona asked.

“Yes, the court will recognize her claim—­to all appearance, it is indisputable; and now I can understand what puzzled and troubled me when Mr. Dinsmore was so helplessly ill,” Mr. Graves said, reflectively.  “You doubtless remember how distressed he was when he tried to make me understand something in connection with his will.”

“Yes,” said Mona with streaming eyes.  “Oh, poor Uncle Walter!”

“Doubtless he knew that his wife was still living,” Mr. Graves resumed, “and that she would be likely to claim his property.  He wanted you to have it—­that I know—­and he must have suffered untold anguish because he could not make me understand that he wanted to have me insert something in his will, which would provide against this woman’s demands.  Even if he had been able to sign the document which I drew up, she could have broken it, because she was not mentioned and remembered in it, and he knew this, of course.”

“Then she will have all—­I am not to have anything?” said Mona inquiringly, but without being able to realize, in the least, what such utter destitution meant.

“My poor child, she utterly refuses to release a dollar of your uncle’s money to you.  I have fought hard for you, Mona, for I could not bear to come to you with this wretched story; but she is inexorable.  She seems, for some reason, to entertain a special spite—­even hatred—­against you, and asserts, through her counsel—­I have not had the honor of meeting this peculiar specimen of womanhood—­that you shall either work or beg for your bread; you shall have nothing of what legally belongs to her.”

“Then I am absolutely penniless!” said Mona, musingly.  “I wonder if I can make myself understand what that means!  I have always had everything that I wanted.  I never asked for anything that Uncle Walter did not give me if he could obtain it.  I have had more money than I wanted to spend, and so I have given a great deal away.  It will seem very strange to have an empty purse.  I wonder where I shall get my clothes, when what I have are worn out.  I wonder how I am to get what I shall need to eat—­does it cost very much to feed one person?  Why, Mr. Graves!” putting her hand to her head in a half-dazed way.  “I cannot make it seem real—­it is like some dreadful dream!”