“We dine with the marquis to-morrow, Newton,” observed Mr John Forster; “I shall take an opportunity after dinner of requesting a few minutes’ interview, when I shall put the question to him.”

“Certainly, sir, if you think right,” replied Newton.

“Well, I’m glad the dear girl has changed that foolish name of Amber.  What could possess my brother?  Julie is very fine, nevertheless; but then she was christened by French people.”

The next day the parties met at dinner.  Isabel Revel had been asked; and, having heard from Madame de Fontanges of the plan agreed upon, and anxious to see the old lawyer, she had consented to join the party.  The dinner passed off as most dinners do when the viands and wines are good, and everybody is inclined to be happy.  Isabel was placed next to Mr Forster, who, without knowing who she was, felt much pleased with the deference and attention of so beautiful a young woman.

“Newton,” said his uncle, when the ladies retired, and the gentlemen packed up their chairs, “who was that young lady who sat next to me?”

“The young lady, my dear uncle, whom I did wish to introduce to you as my intended wife—­Miss Isabel Revel.”

“Humph!—­why, you never spoke to her before dinner, or paid her any common civility!”

“You forget, sir, your injunctions, and—­”

“That’s no reason, nephew, why you should forget common civility.  I requested that you would not marry the young lady; but I never desired you to commit an act of rudeness.  She is a very nice young person; and politeness is but a trifle, although marriage is a very serious thing.”

In pursuance of his plans, when the gentlemen rose, Mr John Forster requested a few minutes’ conversation with the marquis, who, bowing politely, showed the way to a small study on the same floor.

Mr Forster immediately stated his wish that an engagement should be formed between his nephew and Julie de Fontanges.

“Mr Forster,” replied the marquis, drawing up proudly, “the obligations I am under to your family are so great, that there are but few points in which I could refuse you; and I therefore am quite distressed that of this proposal I am obliged to decline the honour.  You may be ignorant, Mr Forster, that the family of the De Fontanges is one of the oldest in France; and, with every respect for you and your nephew, and all gratitude for your kindness, I cannot permit my daughter to form a mesalliance.”

“A mesalliance!—­humph!  I presume, sir, in plain English, it means marrying beneath her rank in life?”

The marquis bowed.

“I beg to observe, sir,” said Mr John Forster, “that our family is a very old one.  I can show you our pedigree.  It has lain for some years by the side of your daughter’s bundle in the iron safe.”

“I have no doubt of the excellence of your family, Mr Forster.  I can only express my deep regret that it is not noble.  Excuse me, Mr Forster; except you can prove that—­”