"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." "There you are mistaken, Miss Rawcliffe," observed Father Jerome. "Portraits of both are in existence, for I myself have seen them. But they are locked up in a closet." "Why should they be locked up?" cried Monica. "Probably Sir Richard does not care to see them," said her mother, sighing deeply. "But let us change the subject. We are talking on family matters that can have no interest to Mr. Atherton Legh." Atherton would have been pleased if more had been said on the subject, but he made no remark. Constance was lost in reflection. Many strange thoughts crossed her mind. At this juncture Jemmy Dawson interposed. "You will be glad to learn, madam," he said to Mrs. Butler, "that my friend Atherton Legh has decided on joining the Manchester Regiment. Constance has the credit of gaining him as a recruit." "That a young man of so much spirit as your friend should support the cause of the Stuarts cannot fail to be highly satisfactory to me, in common with every zealous Jacobite," said Mrs. Butler. "May success attend you both! But it is for you, father, to bless them--not for me." Thus enjoined, the two young men bent reverently before the priest, who, extending his hands over them, ejaculated fervently: "May the Lord of Hosts be with you on the day of battle, and grant you victory! May you both return in safety and claim your reward!" To this Mrs. Butler added, with great earnestness and emotion: "Should Heaven permit them to be vanquished--should they be taken captive--may they be spared the cruel fate that befel so many, who, in by-gone days, fought in the same righteous cause, and suffered death for their loyalty and devotion." This supplication, uttered in sorrowful tones, produced a powerful impression upon all the hearers. "Why have you drawn this sad picture, mamma?" said Monica, half reproachfully. "I could not repress my feelings, my child. A terrible scene perpetually rises before me, and I feel it will haunt me to the last." "Have you witnessed such a scene, mamma?" cried her daughter, trembling. "You have never spoken of it to me?" "I have often wished to do so, but I felt the description would give you pain. Are you equal to it now, do you think?" "Yes," she replied, with attempted firmness, but quivering lip. "And you, Constance?" said Mrs. Butler. "I can listen to you, aunt," rejoined Constance, in tones that did not falter. Before commencing, Mrs. Butler consulted Father Jerome by a glance, and his counsel to her was conveyed in these words, "Better relieve your mind, madam."