"You have taught me," said Rudolph slowly, "to believe in God Almighty, and in His Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, who suffered on the cross to expiate the sins of His chosen." "Is that the creed of those around us?" "Mother, I cannot tell. One half of my brain answers, Ay, it is; but the other half says, No, there is a difference. Yet I cannot quite see what the difference is, and you have always so strictly forbidden me to speak to any one except yourself on religious subjects, that I have had no opportunity to learn what it is. Others, when I hear them talking to you, speak of God, of our Lord, and of our Lady, as we ourselves do: and they speak of the holy Apostles and others of whom we always read in the big book. Mother, is that the same big book out of which the grave-eyed man used to read? But they mention a great many people who are not in the book,--Martin, and Benedict, and Margaret, and plenty more--and they call them all `Saint,' but I do not know who they were. You never told me about those people." There was silence for a moment, till she said--"Thou hast learnt well, and hast been an obedient boy. In the years that lie before thee, thou mayest have cause to thank God for it. My questions are done: thou mayest ask thine." "Then, Mother, who am I?" was the eager inquiry. "Thou art Rudolph, son of Gerhardt of Mainz, and of Agnes his wife, who both gave their lives for the Lord Christ's sake, fourteen years ago." "Mother!--were my real parents martyrs?" "That is the word which is written after their names in the Lamb's Book of Life. But in the books written by men the word is different." "What is that word, then, Mother?" "Rudolph, canst thou bear to hear it? The word is--`heretic'." "But those are wicked people, who are called heretics!" "I think it depends on who uses the word." Rudolph sat an instant in blank silence. "Then what did my father believe that was so wrong?" "He believed what I have taught you." "Then were they wicked, and not he?" "Judge for thyself. There were about thirty of thy father's countrymen, who came over to this country to preach the pure Word of God: and those who called them heretics took them, and branded them, and turned them out into the snow to die. Would our Lord have done that?" "Never! Did they die?" "Every one, except the child I saved." "And that was I, Mother?" "That was thou." "So I am not an Englishman!" said Rudolph, almost regretfully. "No. Thou seest now why I taught thee German. It is thine own tongue." "Mother, this story is terrible. I shall feel the world a worse place to my life's end, after hearing it. But suffer me to ask--who are you? We are so unlike, that sometimes I have fancied we might not be related at all." "We are not related at all." "But you are German?" "No." "You are English! I always imagined you a foreigner." "No--I am not English." "Italian?--Spanish?" She shook her head, and turned away her face.