Estelle turned aside her vail, revealing a face so deathly in its hue that they who beheld it suddenly blanched in sympathy. “Your name, Madam, is Estelle L’Orient?” She bowed assent. The magistrate then took up the warrant for her arrest, read it aloud to her, replaced it on the table, and addressing her, said, “Estelle L’Orient, you are herein charged, under oath, by Madame Gabrielle L’Orient, here present, with having this day, at the parish church of Hyde, in and during the life of your husband, Victoire L’Orient, now living in these realms, feloniously intermarried with George Charles, Viscount Montressor, said marriage constituting an act of bigamy, against the peace and dignity of the king’s majesty, and punishable by transportation, according to the statute in such case made and provided. What have you to say to this charge?” “Nothing here, sir;—much perhaps hereafter,” answered the deep plaintive voice of the accused. “Sir George Bannerman,” said Lord Dazzleright, coming to the side of the lady, “I stand here as the counsel of Lady Montressor, if she will accept my services, and I take exception to the question put to her, as improper.” “Madam, do you retain Lord Dazzleright?” demanded the magistrate. “I do, sir.” “You are then the counsel of Estelle L’Orient?” “I am the counsel of Lady Montressor.” “_Ah! my lord! do not breathe that stainless name here!_ I have no claim to it! Thank God for this, at least—that whatever happens, I can bring no reproach upon that honored name! for it is not mine! I am poor Estelle L’Orient, and yonder name is really my owner,” said the thrilling passionate voice of the lady, as she shuddered and averted her head. “Hush! hush my child! You must really keep silence, and permit me to conduct this case. I shall deny their charges _ab initio_ and _in toto_, as we lawyers say. You are no more the legal wife of yonder vagrant than you are of——well let that pass! You are the Viscountess Montressor.” “_Oh! no, no, no!_ great heaven, no! that sacred name—Lord Montressor’s spotless name—must be kept holy from the sorrow and shame that is gathering darkly over that of poor Estelle L’Orient.” While this low and hurried conversation was going on between the counsel and his client, the magistrate sat back in his chair, waiting. Seeing them at length silent, he leaned forward and inquired of the counsel if they were ready to hear the charge. “We are ready,” replied Lord Dazzleright. “Then I will proceed to call the witnesses—Madame Gabrielle L’Orient will please to take the stand.”