“You said that you were called Morton. I fancied, from your tone, that you insinuated that you have a right to some other name,” said the priest.
“I may have some such idea; but at the same time I am perfectly contented with the one I bear.”
The priest appeared lost in thought.
“Do you remember your father!” he asked, abruptly.
“Certainly; he is, I trust, alive still. I hope to meet him shortly;” surprised at the way in which the priest continued to cross-question him. Some men would have been much annoyed, and refused to reply; but Ronald saw that his interrogator had some good reasons for putting the questions, and felt no inclination to disappoint him.
“May I ask if you were ever considered like the lady of Lunnasting Castle? Donna Hilda, I think you called her,” inquired the priest.
“I have not, that I am aware of, mentioned her name,” answered Morton, looking in his turn hard at the priest. “I will reply to your question, though, before I ask one in return. I have heard that I was like her, and that is not surprising; my mother was very like her—they were cousins. Now I must inquire how comes it that you know anything of the family of Lunnasting? Were you ever in Shetland?”
“There are few parts of the world where I have not been. The members of my order go everywhere, and should know everything that takes place on its surface,” answered the priest, evasively.
“I do not recollect you in Shetland,” said Ronald, “May I ask your name?”
“I am called Father John,” replied the priest, humbly. “I would yet further ask you, what you know respecting the Marquis de Medea?”