"I think he looks good," Dick said gravely; "and I am sure he was brave! What are those figures at the bottom of the picture, grandfather?"
"Can you not make them out?"
"Yes— 1 5 5 5."
"That is the date of the year during which Paul Gidley suffered martyrdom."
Sir Richard glanced from the pictured face of the young monk to the earnest countenance of the child, and was it only his fancy, or did he really see a likeness between them? Both had the same brown eyes, both the same broad, serious brow; and the old man wondered if his grandson possessed the brave spirit of Paul Gidley too.
"I am sure he was good," Dick said, with conviction in his tones; "I like his picture better than any!"
"What, better than that gay cavalier!" cried Sir Richard, laughing. "You don't mean to tell me you prefer Paul Gidley, the martyr, to his fine relations!"
"Yes; I do. And I think mother would like him best. Was she ever here?" he asked suddenly.
"Never!"
Sir Richard let the curtain fall before the picture; and presently they went downstairs again, where Dick was handed over to Susan Morecombe to be shown over the house. The little boy saw many things to interest him that day; but foremost in his mind was the story of the martyred monk, whose face was firmly impressed in his mind's eye.