Mona | Page 2

to realize that his interest was fast merging into a sentiment of a
more tender nature.
Mr. Cutler was an energetic young broker, and report said that he was
rapidly amassing a fortune, and ere long would be rated rich among
rich men. He was fine-looking, very genial and social in his nature, and
so, of course, was a general favorite wherever he went.
His admiration for Mrs. Bently soon became the subject of remark
among his acquaintances at the hotel, and they predicted that the fair
and wealthy widow would soon capture the gallant and successful
broker.
Six weeks spent in the attractive widow's society convinced Justin
Cutler that she was as lovely in character as in person. She was
remarkably sweet-tempered, very devout, and charitable beyond degree.
She would never listen to or indulge in gossip of any kind; on the
contrary, she always had something kind and pleasant to say to every
one.
Upon several occasions, Mr. Cutler invited her to attend the theatre,
lectures and concerts, and she honored him by graciously accepting his

attentions; while, occasionally, he was permitted to accompany her to
church.
That faultless face, her unvarying amiability, her culture and wit, were
fast weaving a spell about him, and he had decided to ask her to share
his fate and fortune, when he suddenly missed her from her accustomed
seat at the table, and failed to meet her about the house as usual.
For three days he did not see anything of her, and he began to be deeply
troubled and anxious about her. He could not endure the suspense, and
made inquiries for her. He was told that she was ill, and this, of course,
did not relieve his anxiety.
On the fourth day, however, she made her appearance again at dinner,
but looking so pale and sad, that his heart went out to her with deeper
tenderness than ever.
He waited in one of the parlors until she came out from the
dining-room. She made her appearance just as a lady, one of the hotel
guests, was leaving the room. With eagerness he stepped forward to
greet her, and then, with kind solicitude, inquired regarding her recent
illness.
"Thank you, Mr. Cutler; I have not been really ill," she said, with a
pathetic little quiver of her red lips, "but--I am in deep trouble; I have
had bad news."
"I am very sorry," returned the young broker, in a tone of earnest
sympathy. "Shall I be presuming if I inquire the nature of your
ill-tidings?"
She smiled up at him gratefully.
"Oh, no, and you are very kind. It--it is only a business trouble," she
said, a vivid flush dyeing her fair cheek; "but being a woman, perhaps I
cannot meet it with quite the fortitude of a man."
"Can I help you in any way?" the gentleman asked, eagerly. "Come into

the little reception-parlor yonder--there is no one there--and confide in
me, if you will honor me so far."
The fair widow took the arm he offered her, and he led her within the
room, and shut the door.
"Sit here," he said, placing a comfortable rocker for her, then he sat
opposite her, and waited for her to open her heart to him.
"You know," she began, falteringly, "that I have lost my husband; he
died several months ago, and there has been some trouble about the
settlement of his estate.
"His relatives contested the will, but my lawyer has always assured me
that he could at least secure a handsome amount for me, even if he
could not win the whole. But the first of this week, I learned that I am
to have almost nothing--that there was not nearly as much as at first
supposed, and Mr. Bently's relatives will get that: and so--I am
penniless."
"Oh, not so badly off as that, I hope!" exclaimed Mr. Cutler, looking
grave.
"It is true. My lawyer's charges will take every dollar that is coming to
me, and--oh! it is humiliating to tell you of it--I owe a great deal of
money here at this hotel, besides. I never dreamed," she went on,
hurriedly, and flushing hotly again, "but that I could pay my bills. I
thought that I should have a large fortune, and I--I am afraid that I have
been very extravagant: but now--I do not know what I shall do."
Mr. Cutler saw that she was in a very perplexing situation, and she
seemed so crushed by it that all his tenderest sympathies were enlisted.
"If you would allow me to lend you any amount," he began, when the
widow showed him the first burst of temper that he had ever seen her
exhibit.
"Sir, do you suppose I would borrow what I could never expect to

pay?"