w, and from you; he never
quarrelled, and he never knew this story. So far as I was concerned I
took the responsibility of silence, and it was wisest so." She looked
sterner than ever as she went on. "I have never heard or discovered
anything more. I am not afraid of your grandfather's intentions. He
has a regard for the name, and he means to leave all to you, who have
every right, unless, indeed, it may be, a legal right. There is one
more thing about which I was anxious long ago. You have heard about a
portrait of your grandfather that was stolen from the gallery soon after
your father's birth? Suspicion fell upon no one in particular. Of
course, the stable door was locked after the horse was gone, and we had
a night-watchman at Fording for some time; but little stir was made, and
I do not believe your grandfather ever put the matter in the hands of
the police. It was a spiteful trick, he said; he would not pay whoever
had done it the compliment of taking any trouble to recover the
portrait. The picture was of himself; he could have another painted any
day.

"By whatever means that picture was removed, I have little doubt that
your grandfather guessed what had become of it. Does it still exist?
Was it stolen? Or did he have it taken away to prevent its being
stolen? We must remember that, though we are quite in the dark about
these people, there is nothing to prevent their being shown over the
house like any other strangers." Then she drew herself up, and folded
her hands in her lap, and he saw the great rings flashing on her white
fingers. "That is all I know," she finished, "and now let us agree not
to mention the subject again, unless one of us should discover anything
more. The claim may have lapsed, or may have been compounded, or may
never have existed; I think, anyhow, we may feel sure now that no move
will be made in your grandfather's lifetime. My advice to you is not to
quarrel with him; you had better spend your long vacations away from
Fording, and when you leave Oxford you can travel."

So the young man went out from Fording, for a wandering that was to
prove half as long as that of Israel in the wilderness. He came home
for a flying visit at wide intervals, but he kept up a steady
correspondence with his grandmother as long as she lived. Only once,
and that in the last letter which he ever received from her, did she
allude to the old distasteful discussion. "Up to this very day," sh