e case I am not sure that Fanny has
been morally wrong. She may have been foolish. I think she has been,
because I feel that the marriage is not suitable for her."

"Noblesse oblige," said the Marquis, putting his hand upon his bosom.

"No doubt. Nobility, whatever may be its nature, imposes bonds on us.
And if these bonds be not obeyed, then nobility ceases. But I deny
that any nobility can bind us to any conduct which we believe to be
wrong."

"Who has said that it does?"

"Nobility," continued the son, not regarding his father's question,
"cannot bind me to do that which you or others think to be right, if
I do not approve it myself."

"What on earth are you driving at?"

"You imply that because I belong to a certain order,--or my
sister,--we are bound to those practices of life which that order
regards with favour. This I deny both on her behalf and my own.
I didn't make myself the eldest son of an English peer. I do
acknowledge that as very much has been given to me in the way of
education, of social advantages, and even of money, a higher line of
conduct is justly demanded from me than from those who have been less
gifted. So far, _noblesse oblige_. But before I undertake the duty
thus imposed upon me, I must find out what is that higher line of
conduct. Fanny should do the same. In marrying George Roden she would
do better, according to your maxim, than in giving herself to some
noodle of a lord who from first to last will have nothing to be proud
of beyond his acres and his title."

The Marquis had been walking about the room impatiently, while his
didactic son was struggling to explain his own theory as to those
words _noblesse oblige_. Nothing could so plainly express the
feelings of the Marquis on the occasion as that illustration of his
as to the dog's hind legs. But he was a little ashamed of it, and did
not dare to use it twice on the same occasion. He fretted and fumed,
and would have stopped Hampstead had it been possible; but Hampstead
was irrepressible when he had become warm on his own themes, and his
father knew that he must listen on to the bitter end. "I won't have
her go to Hendon at all," he said, when his son had finished.

"Then you will understand little of her nature,--or of mine. Roden
will not come near her there. I can hardly be sure that he will not
do so here. Here Fanny will feel that she is being treated as an
enemy."

"You have no right to say so."

"There she will know