"And now, my dear son, I must allude to a very different matter. Madame de Valricour writes to me that you have lost your heart, and that although for reasons, which, she says, she quite understands, you have not made it known, she thinks it time that I should intervene. I think so too; and I do so the more willingly as I doubt not that your reticence and hesitation in this matter has arisen from a natural feeling that I might be opposed to your union with one who is not your equal in point of rank, and who will not, I fancy, bring you a sou in the way of marriage portion. Well, I will ease your mind at once. To you, and therefore to me, money can be no object. As an old soldier myself I might well be content to receive as my daughter-in-law even one who could boast of no higher title than that of a brave soldier's daughter; in any case, your wife will be the Marquise de Beaujardin, so, assuming that Madame de Valricour is correct in her supposition, I see no reason why I should go out of my way to thwart a son who has ever deserved my affection, and has proved himself likewise to be worthy of the name of a good soldier." The letter dropped from her hands. "Isidore, Isidore! what have you done?" said she in a tone that had in it no trace of the delight he had anticipated. "O Isidore! your fond heart has blinded you. What shall I do? Isidore, you have brought ruin on your dear self, and all for me!" Astonished and disconcerted at this unexpected outburst, Isidore would have endeavoured to calm her, but as he took her hand in his she uttered a slight cry, and on looking round he beheld Madame de Valricour standing only a few paces from them, regarding them apparently with speechless amazement. However much the young marquis might have lost his self-possession when he and Marguerite were the only actors in the scene, the appearance of Madame de Valricour at once brought back his usual command over himself, although he certainly was somewhat puzzled at the blank expression of her face at that moment. "I would apologise to you, my dear aunt," said he, "for allowing myself to be caught at such a very sentimental crisis, but that I know that it is to you and no one else that I owe my happiness at this moment, and----" He stopped short, for the blank look had suddenly changed into one so fiercely angry that anything further in the way of complimentary speeches was not to be thought of, and a dead pause ensued. "Leave us, Mademoiselle Lacroix!" cried Madame de Valricour vehemently. Marguerite hesitated, her reluctance to leave Isidore alone in so painful a dilemma, overcoming even her habitual deference to Madame de Valricour; but Isidore, who felt that he should be more free to speak or act if unembarrassed by her presence, quietly led her away from the spot. Then, after raising her hand to his lips, he returned to the baroness and addressed her thus--