"As to who he may be there are many opinions; and some aver he is Francis Paslew, grandson of Francis, brother to the abbot, and being a Jesuit priest, for you know the Paslews have all strictly adhered to the old faith--and that is why they have fled the country and abandoned their residence--he is obliged to keep himself concealed." "If such be the case, he must be crazed indeed to venture here," observed Nicholas; "and yet I am half inclined to credit the report.
Look at him, Dick.

He is the very image of the old abbot." "Yon portrait might have been painted for him," said Richard, gazing at the picture on the wall, and from it to the monk as he spoke; "the very same garb, too." "There is an old monastic robe up-stairs, in the closet adjoining the room occupied by Mistress Nutter," observed the steward, "said to be the garment in which Abbot Paslew suffered death.

Some stains are upon it, supposed to be the blood of the wizard Demdike, who perished in an extraordinary manner on the same day." "I have seen it," cried Nicholas, "and the monk's habit looks precisely like it, and, if my eyes deceive me not, is stained in the same manner." "I see the spots plainly on the breast," cried Richard.

"How can he have procured the robe ?" "Heaven only knows," replied the old steward.

"It is a very strange occurrence." "I will go question him," said Richard.
So saying, he proceeded to the upper table, accompanied by Nicholas.