The supper was served at so early an hour that the candles in the silver sconces were not yet required: the light of day still gleamed into the hall through the lozenge-paned oriel window, and sent coloured streams across the fair napery of the table as it passed through the stained glass of armorial bearings. Sir John sat at the head of the table, as he always did when he came to Chiddingly—though he had made a "deed of gift" of the Place in favour of his brother William when he took up his abode in London. Presently the shadows of evening began to deepen, and the wax tapers were lit. How pleasant the hall looked as the light shone on the wainscoted walls and illumined the features of past generations of Jefferays whose portraits adorned the beautiful chamber! There was John Jefferay, who purchased Chiddingly Place in 1495, and beside him was the portrait of his wife Agnes, whose fine features bore a strong resemblance to Susan. Their three sons were there—Richard, Thomas and William, Richard being the father of the famous Sir John who now sat at supper in the hall. -------------- And when the young people of the family had withdrawn to the parlour, to amuse themselves with music and merry games, Sir John and his brother stepped out on to the lawn and entered into grave discourse as they walked to and fro. The stars were shining brightly, a soft, gentle wind was stirring the tree-tops, and from the woods around came the sweet songs of many a nightingale. "Ah, what a contrast is this scene of tranquil peace and happiness to the wild drama which is unfolding itself in London!" said Sir John. "Here I may speak words to you, brother William, which might cost me my head if men overheard them in town. I have come to Chiddingly sick at heart and weary of the world, for the young King is dying, and all the beasts and birds of prey are gathering together at Court ready to fly at each others' throats as soon as the life is out of his poor body. Alas! alas! for England; I see no hope for her but in God. His Grace of Northumberland is straining every nerve to advance the cause of Lady Jane Grey and his son Lord Guildford Dudley, and I foresee that, ere long, the headsman will be busy, and the innocent will suffer with the guilty. "Last night his Grace of Canterbury came to me in great trouble; he would fain know if he might legally sign certain State documents, and I told him that if he did so it would be at the peril of his head! Alas, poor Archbishop! he went away greatly perturbed.