"How was that?" Dick asked.
"Because the Gidleys always stood by the Stuarts," Sir Richard answered.
"Oh, I know all about the Stuarts!" Dick cried; "but I never knew my ancestors had anything to do with them! How strange it seems!"
"You should be proud of your ancestors," the old man said, delighted with the keen interest the boy was evincing in the information he was giving him.
"Were they very good people?" Dick inquired.
"Not all; but some of them were. They were all brave, though; many of them were soldiers like your father."
"I have not seen the likeness of the martyr, grandfather!"
"No." Sir Richard drew aside a curtain which hung in front of a large picture. "This is Paul Gidley, the martyr," he said gravely.
Dick looked, and saw an almost life-size representation of a monk. The slight form was attired in the conventional monastic garb of the period; but it was the face of the martyr which fascinated Dick—a young face with dark-brown eyes, and lips firm but tender, a broad brow, and clipped, dark hair.
"You see he wore a tonsure," Sir Richard said; "I mean that round, bare patch on his head which shows he was dedicated to the Roman Catholic ministry. He was a monk, and he lost his life because he saw the errors of his church, and preached against them."