“Here they are!” he exclaimed, pointing to the open pages that presented full-length cabinet photographs of Mike and Judy—the former being on the left-hand page and the latter on the right.
“Yes, you are right,” replied Palma in surprise; “but how could you tell?”
“Because this,” he replied, laying his finger on Judy’s picture, “is a perfect likeness of my dear lost Moira; and this,” he added, indicating Mike’s, “is as like her as a youth can be like his mother.”
“They are faithful likenesses of the twin brother and sister,” replied Palma.
“Now tell me, my dear young lady, about my boy and girl.”
“Your daughter, I have said, is sweet and good and very dear to us all who know her. To say that she is married to one of the wealthiest land owners of one of the oldest families in Yorkshire would be true, but it would not be so much as to say that her husband is one of the best, the truest, the most generous and most magnanimous of men.”
“Your praise is enthusiastic, therefore extravagant.”
“It could not be. Ask Judy herself.”
“Ask a young woman still in love! She would be a very impartial witness, no doubt,” laughed The O’Melaghlin. “But now about my boy?”
“He is altogether worthy of his sister and his brother-in-law. I could not say any more for him than that.”