"In time we determined to be, in spite of our French descent, English of the English, for our children's sake, and we worked with them, and traded with them; and, to show our faith in them, and to avoid all further connection and military service in the country we had left, we even anglicised our names. My people became Vines; the D'Aubigneys, Daubney or Dobbs; the Boileaus, Drinkwater; the Guipets, Guppy. Vulgarising our names, some people say; but never mind, we found rest, prosperity, and peace." "Quite right, Mr Pradelle," said Van Heldre, "and in spite of my name and my Huguenot descent, I say, thank Heaven I am now an Englishman." "No, no, no, no, Mr Van Heldre," said Aunt Marguerite, throwing herself back, and looking at him with a pitying smile. "You cannot prove your Huguenot descent." "Won't contradict you, ma'am," said Van Heldre. "Capital jam this, Louise." "You must be of Dutch descent," said Aunt Marguerite. "I went carefully over my father's pedigree, Miss Marguerite," said Madelaine quietly. "Indeed, my child?" said the lady, raising her brows. "And I found without doubt that the Venelttes fled during the persecutions to Holland, where they stayed for half a century, and changed their names to Van Heldre before coming to England." "Quite right," said Van Heldre in a low voice. "Capital cream." "Ah, yes," said Aunt Margaret; "but, my dear child, such papers are often deceptive." "Yes," said Van Heldre, smiling, "often enough: so are traditions and many of our beliefs about ancestry; but I hope I have enough of what you call the _haute noblesse_ in me to give way, and not attempt to argue the point." "No, Mr Van Heldre," said Aunt Margaret, with a smile of pity and good-humoured contempt; "we have often argued together upon this question, but I cannot sit in silence and hear you persist in that which is not true. No; you have not any Huguenot blood in your veins." "My clear madam, I feel at times plethoric enough to wish that the old-fashioned idea of being blooded in the spring were still in vogue. I have so much Huguenot blood in my veins, that I should be glad to have less." Aunt Margaret shook her head, and tightened her lips. "Low Dutch," she said to herself, "Low Dutch." Van Heldre read her thoughts in the movement of her lips. "Don't much matter," he said. "Vine, old fellow, think I shall turn over a new leaf." "Eh? New leaf?" "Yes; get a good piece of marsh, make a dam to keep out the sea, and take to keeping cows. What capital cream!" "Yes, Mr Pradelle," continued Aunt Margaret; "we are Huguenots of the Huguenots, and it is the dream of my life that Henri should assert his right to the title his father repudiates, and become Comte des Vignes." "Ah!" said Pradelle.