Sir Richard grew purple. He was about to burst into a storm of passion, when he remembered that he had forced the child to speak his thoughts, and has anger suddenly cooled.
"Instead of educating you for a soldier, your parents should bring you to a preacher," he sneered. "There was a Gidley once who was a preacher, and because he could not mind his own business he was burnt at the stake!"
"Oh, do please tell me about him!" Dick cried eagerly. "I should so much like to hear how it happened!"
Sir Richard was fond of talking of his own family, so it pleased him to tell the tale. He accordingly commenced:—
"In the reign of Queen Mary—Bloody Mary as the history-books call her—there was a certain Paul Gidley, a monk, a younger son of the Sir Richard Gidley who built this house. He went abroad to Holland, and there he fell in with some monks like himself, who had come to the conclusion that God meant the Bible for every one to read—not only for priests and people of education. When this Paul Gidley returned to England, he went about preaching, and saying that the Church of Rome was full of faults, and that Jesus Christ was the only one to look to for salvation."
"He was quite right, wasn't he?" Dick said earnestly. "I've heard about men like him before—mother told me about them. Some of them were martyrs," he concluded, a look of awe crossing his face.
"Paul Gidley was one," Sir Richard proceeded; "he offended the heads of the Roman Catholic Church in England, and he was thrown into prison so that he should have time to consider the advisability of denying the Protestant faith. The queen was reluctant to sign his death-warrant, for the Gidleys had ever been faithful and loyal subjects; but, as Paul Gidley declined to change his views, she was obliged to consent to his death; and so he perished at the stake—was burnt to death after nearly an hour's agony borne with great fortitude. The Gidleys were never cowards!" Sir Richard's eyes glowed with a bright light as he spoke, whilst little Dick laid a hand on his knee, and looked up at him solemnly.
"That was before this house was built," the old man continued. "The Gidleys lived then about a mile from here. After the death of young Paul Gidley, Sir Richard absented himself from court, and lived in retirement till Queen Mary died. Then, when Elizabeth came to the crown, he commenced to build this house on the site of the old monastery; but before it was completed, he died. The son finished the work the father had commenced, and, with his family and personal belongings, which included some handsome plate, and the paintings of his parents and martyred brother, came here to live. The old home of the Gidleys is now a farm-house; I daresay you will see it some day. I will show you the picture-gallery by-and by; but now it is my lunch-time. Are you hungry?"
"I think I am," the little boy admitted, glancing at the table, which was laid for two. Sir Richard told him to ring the bell, and a trim parlour-maid appeared in answer to its summons to wait upon them.
Sir Richard took his seat at the top of the table with his grandson at his right hand. During the meal he watched the boy furtively, and was pleased with his behaviour. Dick's manners were easy and refined; and although he had plenty to say, and asked dozens of questions, he was not too self-confident.