The pale and drooping girl who had remained all this time with her face bowed and hidden upon her hands in the folds of her bridal vail, now raised her eyes in wild affright, looking so much like an amazed and terrified child in the grasp of some horrible power, that the good clergyman, Mr. Oldfield, hastened to her side and stooped to say— “It is but a form, my child. No action can be successfully sustained against you. Trust in God, and take courage.” “Have you bail?” inquired Sir George Bannerman, who had just been giving some private directions to his secretary. Estelle shook her head—poor girl, she did not fairly understand the purport of the question. “Lady Montressor _has_ bail, your worship. The Reverend Mr. Oldfield and the Reverend Mr. Trevor stand ready to enter into a recognizance with her, or rather with her husband, Lord Montressor, for her appearance at court,” said Lord Dazzleright. The magistrate turned to direct his secretary to fill out the proper forms. And while that functionary was busily scribbling, Estelle turned to Lord Dazzleright pleading, “For the love of the Saviour, my lord! do not, oh! do not continue to drag the spotless name of Montressor through the mire of my misery! I would rather,—oh! far rather, that conviction should come with all its train of horrors for me, than that I should be saved, at the expense of one speck upon that stainless name.” Without replying to her prayer, the advocate, turning toward Lord Montressor, said— “Will your lordship be so good as to come and speak to this lady? you may be able to bring her to reason.” Lord Montressor, who had heard or divined the purport of Estelle’s plaintive petition, and who desired nothing more than the opportunity of reassuring her, now came to her side and said,