s mysterious disappearance, followed not long
after by the Ranee's equally mysterious death, was the immediate cause
of my grandfather's recall. How much, or how little of this story--or
other dark stories of the same kind--is true, whether my grandfather was
a consummate scoundrel, or the victim of a baseless slander,--whether he
left India a rich man or a poor man, is known to no mortal except Lady
Maulevrier, and compared with her the Theban Sphinx was a communicative
individual.'

'Let the dead bury their dead,' said Hammond. 'Neither you nor your
sisters can be the worse for this ancient slander. No doubt every part
of the story has been distorted and exaggerated in the telling; and a
great deal of it may be pure invention, evolved from the inner
consciousness of the slanderer. God forbid that any whisper of scandal
should ever reach Lady Lesbia's ears.'

He ignored poor Mary. It was to him as if there were no such person. Her
feeble light was extinguished by the radiance of her sister's beauty;
her very individuality was annihilated.

'As for you, dear old fellow,' he said, with warm affection, 'no one
will ever think the worse of you on account of your grandfather's
peccadilloes.'

'Yes, they will. Hereditary genius is one of our modern crazes. When a
man's grandfather was a rogue, there must be a taint in his blood.
People don't believe in spontaneous generation, moral or physical,
now-a-days. Typhoid breeds typhoid, and typhus breeds typhus, just as
dog breeds dog; and who will believe that a cheat and a liar can be the
father of honest men?'

'In that case, knowing what kind of man the grandson is, I will never
believe that the grandfather was a rogue,' said Hammond, heartily.

Maulevrier put out his hand without a word, and it was warmly grasped by
his friend.

'As for her ladyship, I respect and honour her as a woman who has led a
life of self-sacrifice, and has worn her pride as an armour,' continued
Hammond.

'Yes, I believe the dowager's character is rather fine,' said
Maulevrier; 'but she and I have never hit our horses very well together.
She would have liked such a fellow as you for a grandson, Jack--a man
who took high honours at Oxford, and could hold his own against all
comers. Such a grandson would have gratified her pride, and would have
repaid her for the trouble she had taken in nursing the Maulevrier
estate; for however poor a property it was when her husband went to
India there is n