I went down to see Mariette, nevertheless, that same day, rejoiced the heart of the Count de Salins with the news of my father’s complete exculpation, and returned the next morning to London, taking Father Bonneville with me; but I took especial care not to say one word to any one, of there being even a chance that the earl would disapprove of my choice. Some five or six days after, the earl wrote me a note to come with Westover and breakfast with him. We found him in the best humor; for some changes had taken place in the ministry which satisfied him, and toward the close of breakfast, a servant announced that Mr. Holland was in the library. “I will be with him directly,” said the earl; and when he had finished his cup of coffee, and read a paragraph in the newspaper, to show that he was in no hurry, he rose, saying, “Now, young men, come with me.” We followed him to the library, where we found a tall, thin lawyer, with a shaggy head of hair, and two parchments spread out upon the table. A few words passed between the earl and his man of business, and then the former took up a pen, and signed the parchment at a spot pointed out. “This, Charles,” he said, turning to my cousin, “is a deed settling the sum of five thousand per annum upon you, till my death puts you in possession of the family estates.” “This, Louis,” he continued, turning to me with the pen still in his hand, “is a deed, settling two thousand per annum upon you for life, and you will find yourself further remembered in my will.” He stooped to sign the parchment, but I laid my hand upon it saying, boldly, but in a commonplace tone, “Stop, my lord, if you please.” “Why?” he exclaimed, looking up. “First,” I answered, “because it is quite an honor, and pleasure enough for me to be your acknowledged grandson; and secondly, because I think it right to inform you, before you do what I could in no degree expect, that I am about to be married. The engagement was formed before I had the slightest idea that I was in any way related to you, otherwise I should certainly have consulted you before I entered into it.” I could see by Westover’s face that he thought I was going wrong, but I was not. The old man laughed, and said, “Well, boy, I have no objection to your marrying.” “And any one I like?” I asked. “And any one you like,” he answered. “I do not carry my superintendence beyond one generation. That is more than enough for any one.” “Then, my dear and noble lord,” I replied, “let me add, that the one I like, is I am sure, one you will like, too, for she is as generous and as noble-minded as yourself—noble, by birth and by character—a lady in every respect—and well fitted to be admitted into your family.” “A French-woman!” he said—“a French-woman?”