“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.”