“Why, I could prove it by purchasing a dozen marquisates, if I thought proper!”

“Granted, Mr Forster.  In our country they are to be purchased; but we make a great difference between the parvenus of the present day and the ancienne noblesse.”

“Well, Mr Marquis, just as you please; but I consider myself quite as good as a French marquis,” replied Mr Forster, in a tone of irritation.

“Better than many, I have no doubt; but still, we draw the line.  Noble blood, Mr Forster.”

“Noble fiddlestick!  Monsieur le Marquis, in this country, and the inhabitants are not fools, we allow money to weigh against rank.  It purchases that, as it does everything else, except heaven.  Now, Monsieur le Marquis—­”

“Excuse me, sir; no money will purchase the hand of Julie de Fontanges,” replied the marquis.

“Well, then, Monsieur le Marquis, I should think that the obligations you are under in restoring your daughter to your arms—­”

“Warrants your asking for her back again, Mr Forster?” replied the marquis, haughtily.  “A labourer might find this diamond solitaire that’s now upon my finger.  Does it therefore follow that I am to make him a present of it?”

“Humph!” ejaculated Mr Forster, much affronted with the comparison.

“In short, my dear sir, anything which you or your family can think of, which it is in our power to grant, will make us most happy; but to sully the blood of the most ancient—­”

John Forster would hear no more; he quitted the room and walked upstairs before the marquis had completed his speech.  When he entered the drawing-room, his countenance plainly expressed his disappointment.  Like all men who have toiled for riches, he had formed plans, in which he considered his wealth was to command success, and had overlooked every obstacle which might present itself against the completion of his wishes.

“Newton,” said he, as they stood apart near the window, “you have been a good lad in not persisting to thwart my views, but that French marquis, with his folly and his ‘ancienne noblesse,’ has overthrown all my plans.  Now, I shall not interfere with yours.  Introduce me to Miss what’s her name; she is a very fine girl, and from what I saw of her during dinner, I like her very much.”

Isabel exerted herself to please, and succeeded.

Satisfied with his nephew’s choice, flattered by his previous apparent submission, and disgusted with the marquis, Mr John Forster thought no more of Mademoiselle de Fontanges.  His consent was voluntary, and in a short time Isabel Revel changed her name.

It was about five months after Newton’s marriage that he received a letter from the Board, appointing him to the command of a ship.  Newton handed the letter over to Mr Forster.

“I presume, sir, it is your wish that I should accept the offer?”

“What offer?” said the old lawyer, who was reading through a case for counsel’s opinion. “Melville—­for Madras and China.—­Why, Newton, I really do not see any occasion for your going afloat again.  There is an old proverb—­’The pitcher that goes often to the well is broken at last.’  You’re not tired of your wife already?”