She seemed very much struck by the young man, and could not remove her gaze from him.
"Who is this, Monica?" she murmured.
"He is the young gentleman, mamma, of whose courage Constance has been speaking to you in such glowing terms—who so gallantly liberated Sir Richard from arrest this morning, and subsequently preserved Salford Bridge from destruction. It is Mr. Atherton Legh. I felt sure you would like to see him."
"You judged quite right, my dear," Mrs. Butler replied, in her soft, sweet accents. "I am very glad to see you, sir. Pardon my gazing at you so fixedly. You bear a strong resemblance to one long since dead—a near relation of my own. Do you not remark the likeness, father?" she added to the priest.
"Indeed, madam, I am much struck by it," replied Father Jerome.
"I am sure you mean my uncle, Sir Oswald," observed Constance.
"True. But as Mr. Legh has probably never heard of him, I did not mention his name."
"I think you have a miniature of my uncle?" said Constance.
"I had one," returned Mrs. Butler. "But I know not what has become of it."
"Strange! I never saw a portrait of him," remarked Constance. "There is not one at Rawcliffe. Nor is there a portrait of his beautiful wife, who did not long survive him."