hom she had so hated.

Mona reverently gathered up the fragments, her lips quivering with pain
and indignation.

She laid them carefully together, but a bitter sob burst from her at the
sight of the great ragged tears across the beautiful face.

"Oh, mother, mother!" she murmured, "what an insult to you, and I was
powerless to help it."

She finished her packing, then taking the dresses that were to be made
over, and the torn picture, she went below.

She could not bear the thought of having that lovely face, marred though
it was, consigned to the flames, yet she dare not disobey Mrs. Montague's
command to give it to Mary to be burned.

She waited until the girl came up stairs, then she called her attention
to the pieces, and told her what was to be done with them.

She at once exclaimed at the resemblance to Mona.

"Where could Mrs. Montague have got it?" she cried; "it's enough like
you, miss, to be your own mother, and a beautiful lady she must have
been, too. It's a pity to burn the picture, Miss Ruth; wouldn't you like
to keep it?"

"Perhaps Mrs. Montague would prefer that no one should have it; she said
it was to be destroyed, you know," Mona replied, but with a wistful look
at the mutilated crayon.

"You shall have it if you want it, and I'll fix it all right with her,"
said the girl, in a confidential tone, as she put the pieces back into
Mona's hands. She had become very fond of the gentle seamstress, and
would have considered no favor too great to be conferred upon her.

That same afternoon, when Mona went out for her walk, she took the
mutilated picture with her.

She made her way directly to the rooms of a first-class photographer, and
asked if the portrait could be copied.

Yes, she was assured; there would be no difficulty about getting as good
a picture as the original, only it would have to be all hand work.

Mona said she would give the order if it could be done immediately, and,
upon being told she could have the copy in three days, she said she would
call for it at the end of that time.

She did so, and found a perfect reproduction of her mother's face, and
upon her return to Mrs. Montague's she gave the pieces of the other to
Mary, telling her she believed she did not care to keep them--they had
better be burned as her mistress had desired.

This relieved her mind, for she did not wish the girl to practice any
deception for her sake, and she feared that Mrs. Montague might inquire