“That is quite different.” The marchioness suddenly became the great lady. “We are not talking of that, as you know. Mr. Hammond is not one of those foolish young men who marry a girl out of their own class and regret it ever afterwards. You must put that idea out of your head at once, believe me. I am speaking as your friend and as a woman of the world.”
Belle looked at her friend for a moment with a silence that had something satirical in it.
“What is Mr. Hammond’s class?”
“Don’t you know? Mr. Hammond is a millionaire. He moves in the very best society. He could marry almost any woman in England, except royalty. I know dukes, even, who would feel honored by an alliance with Mr. Hammond.”
All this time it had not occurred to Belle, in her simplicity, that she could possibly be regarded by the great lady beside her as a rival, and a dangerous rival, to her own daughter. She only felt that something very dear to her was at stake, and she wrestled for it blindly.
“Is that simply because he is rich?” she demanded, with the scorn which youth always feels for wealth.
“Not entirely,” the marchioness answered, mildly, “though, of course, that has a great deal to do with it. But Mr. Hammond comes of a most respectable family, I believe. I have heard that his father was quite a gentleman towards the end of his life. And then he has a fine political career before him; he is in Parliament, and may be in the Cabinet. You can’t expect him to throw all that away to marry you, my dear.”
Belle began to fear that she was going to be beaten.
“And would he? Would it be such a very great disgrace?” she murmured below her breath.
“I don’t say that it would,” replied her deeply sympathizing friend; “but society would consider it so. You see, we can none of us do all that we like. There are many things that I should like to do, but I dare not. We all feel inclined to rebel sometimes and gratify our own inclinations, but we are restrained by a higher law.”