“Your signature is wanted to this document, madam,” said Sir George Bannerman, addressing the prisoner. “Remain here, dear Estelle. I shall sign that instrument in your behalf,” said Lord Montressor, leaving her side and advancing to the table. “Lord Montressor will enter into a recognizance with Messieurs Oldfield and Trevor, on the part of his wife,” said Baron Dazzleright. “It will not do. The prisoner must sign for herself,” said the magistrate. “Be it so, then. Estelle—Lady Montressor—if you have any regard for me, sign only the name that I have this day bestowed upon you,” whispered Lord Montressor, as he led her forward to the table. “Lady Montressor, I add my voice to his lordship’s, and do beseech you, for the sake of all who love you, to comply,” said the Baron. Estelle turned upon Lord Montressor a smile, full of holy self-renunciation, took the pen, and with a firm hand signed the paper. Lord Montressor, Lord Dazzleright, and the two clergymen bent eagerly forward to read the signature. It was—ESTELLE L’ORIENT. “Oh, child, child! Why have you written thus?” questioned Lord Montressor, with a look of distress. “This girl will ruin her own cause,” said Lord Dazzleright, in a tone of vexation. “Yes, my lords, she _will_ ruin her own cause rather than insure it at the expense of the noble and the good. I am poor, lost Estelle, wife of Victoire L’Orient, and have not the slightest claim even upon the Viscount Montressor’s countenance—to say nothing of his noble name.” “We will see about that, my fair fanatic,” said the Baron. As it was now very late in the afternoon, and the setting sun was shining aslant the sombre library wall, and as Sir George Bannerman announced the sitting at end, and betrayed symptoms of impatience to be gone, the parties,—both prosecutors and defendants, prepared to retire. “You will go with me to Bloomingdale, my child, and remain as long as your friends can spare you. Mrs. Oldfield will be very—ahem!—will do every thing she possibly can to prove her affection and respect for you, and to make your sojourn in our humble home as comfortable and agreeable as circumstances will admit, my dear,” said old Mr. Oldfield to his protege. “We thank you very sincerely for your offered hospitality, reverend sir; but since taking legal advice my plans are again changed—we shall adhere to the first arrangement, which was, that Lady Montressor and myself should go down to Dorset and spend a month at our castle of Montressor,” said the Viscount, with calm emphasis. “Your lordship doubtless best knows the just and proper grounds of your action,” said the venerable man, bowing gravely, but looking, withal, so uneasy, that Lord Montressor beckoned the baron to his side, and said: “Lord Dazzleright, will you be good enough to inform these gentlemen whom you consider to be the legal protector of this lady?”