"Listen to me, Margaret," he said tenderly, "you are run down and out of health yourself, and I really think you must make up your mind to go to England with the boy!"
"And leave you!" she cried reproachfully, hastily drying her eyes. "Oh, Richard, that is impossible!"
"Not at all! We should not be parted for long. The regiment's ordered home next year; and if you will consent to take Dick home—"
"No, no! I cannot think of it! I shall remain with you most certainly! Did I not tell you ten years ago, when we were first married, in the words of Ruth of old, 'Whither thou goest I will go!' And do you think I did not understand then what that might mean some day? No, our little Dick must go to England alone, and Uncle Theophilus and Aunt Mary Ann will be good to him for my sake first of all, and later, when they grow to know him better, for his own. Dear Richard, don't try to dissuade me from remaining in India with you. Indeed, I have quite, quite made up my mind, and to-morrow, all being well, I will tell Dick!"
"The boy ought to be told something of his relations, Margaret!"
"Yes," she agreed; "I think he should be told about your father."
"Not what a hard, unforgiving man he is, and that he has refused the shelter of his home to his grandson—my son!"
"No, dear, not that, certainly; only that Sir Richard lives near Holton, and that he is your father."
"There is no need to tell him anything else."
Captain Gidley heaved a sigh of relief. The fact was, his father, Sir Richard Gidley, had never forgiven him for marrying the orphan niece of the village doctor, and would have disinherited him if that had been possible; but his property was strictly heirship, and he could not will it out of the direct line. However, he had refused to make his son an additional allowance on his marriage, so that Captain Gidley and his wife were very poorly off for their position. When the Indian climate began to tell on the health of their little son, and they had realised they would not be able to keep him with them much longer, Captain Gidley had written to Sir Richard asking him to make a home for the boy, which request had been curtly refused. Then Mrs. Gidley had written to her aunt and uncle at Holton, the village on the south coast of England where she had spent her youth, and in due course received an answer from the former which ran as follows:—