ear that by certain conduct and by certain uses of his money, he
himself might be made a baronet. 'But if they should say that I'm not
an Englishman?' suggested Melmotte. Lord Alfred had explained that it
was not necessary that he should have been born in England, or even
that he should have an English name. No questions would be asked. Let
him first get into Parliament, and then spend a little money on the
proper side,--by which Lord Alfred meant the Conservative side,--and be
munificent in his entertainments, and the baronetcy would be almost a
matter of course. Indeed, there was no knowing what honours might not
be achieved in the present days by money scattered with a liberal
hand. In these conversations, Melmotte would speak of his money and
power of making money as though they were unlimited,--and Lord Alfred
believed him.

Marie was dissatisfied with her letter,--not because it described her
father as 'cutting up rough.' To her who had known her father all her
life that was a matter of course. But there was no word of love in the
note. An impassioned correspondence carried on through Didon would be
delightful to her. She was quite capable of loving, and she did love
the young man. She had, no doubt, consented to accept the addresses of
others whom she did not love,--but this she had done at the moment
almost of her first introduction to the marvellous world in which she
was now living. As days went on she ceased to be a child, and her
courage grew within her. She became conscious of an identity of her
own, which feeling was produced in great part by the contempt which
accompanied her increasing familiarity with grand people and grand
names and grand things. She was no longer afraid of saying No to the
Nidderdales on account of any awe of them personally. It might be that
she should acknowledge herself to be obliged to obey her father,
though she was drifting away even from the sense of that obligation.