Mr. Calderwood objected to these questions as irrelevant; but the prisoner’s counsel declared them to be essential, and the judge let him go on to extract from Dolores that the payment was intended for an expensive illustrated work on natural history, which was to be published in Germany. Her father had promised to take two copies of it if it were completed; but being doubtful whether this would ever be the case, he had preferred leaving a draft with her to letting the account be discharged by his brother, and he had reckoned that seven pounds would cover the expense. ‘You say you supposed the author was dead. What reason had you for thinking so?’ ‘He told me; Mr. Flinders did.’ ‘Had Mr. Mohun sanctioned your applying this sum to any other purpose than that specified?’ ‘No, he had not. I did wrong,’ said Dolores, firmly. He wrinkled up his forehead, so that the point of his wig went upwards, and proceeded to inquire whether she had herself given the cheque to the prisoner. ‘I sent it.’ ‘Did you post it?’ ‘Not myself. I gave it to Miss Constance Hacket to send it for me.’ ‘Can you swear to the sum for which it was drawn when you parted with it?’ ‘Yes. I looked at it to see whether it was pounds or guineas.’ ‘Did you give it loose or in an envelope?’ ‘In an envelope.’ ‘Was any other person aware of your doing so?’ ‘Nobody.’ ‘What led you to make this advance to the prisoner?’ ‘Because he told me that he was in great distress.’ ‘He told you. By letter or in person?’ ‘In person.’ ‘When did he tell you so?’ ‘On the 22nd of December.’ ‘And where?’ ‘At Darminster.’ ‘Let me ask whether this interview at Darminster took place with the knowledge of the lady with whom you reside?’ ‘No, it did not,’ said Dolores, colouring deeply. ‘Was it a chance meeting?’ ‘No--by appointment.’ ‘How was the appointment made?’ ‘We wrote to say we would come that day.’ ‘We--who was the other party?’ ‘Miss Constance Hacket.’ ‘You were then in correspondence with the prisoner. Was it with the sanction of Lady Merrifield?’ ‘No.’ ‘A secret correspondence, then, romantically carried on--by what means?’ ‘Constance Hacket sent the letters and received them for me.’ ‘What was the motive for this arrangement?’ ‘I knew my aunt would prevent my having anything to do with him.’ ‘And you--excuse me--what interest had you in doing so?’ ‘My mother had been like his sister, and always helped him.’ All these answers were made with a grave, resolute straightforwardness, generally with something of Dolores’s peculiar stony look, and only twice was there any involuntary token of feeling, when she blushed at confessing the concealment from her aunt, and at the last question, when her voice trembled as she spoke of her mother. She kept her eyes on her interrogators all the time, never once glancing towards the prisoner, though all the time she had a sensation as if his reproachful looks were piercing her through.