“It is true,” replied Rudolph, in the same low tone.

“It is false!” cried Estella,—­and yet I thought there was that in her tone which indicated that the hideous doubt had begun to enter her soul.

“Rudolph,” said Maximilian, “tell this lady whether you took a receipt from her aunt for the money you paid for her.”

“I did,” replied Rudolph.

“Miss Washington,” said Maximilian, like a lawyer who has reached his crucial question, for he was a trained attorney, “would you recognize your aunt’s signature if you saw it?”

“Certainly.”

“You have often seen her write?”

“Yes; hundreds of times.”

“Have you any reason to distrust this good man, Rudolph?  Do you not know that in testifying to the truth he runs the risk of his own destruction?”

“Yes, yes,” she said, and there was a wild and worried look in her eyes.

“Read the receipt, Rudolph,” said Maximilian.

Rudolph read, in the same low and almost trembling tones, the following: 

     New York, August 5th, 1988.—­Received of Matthew Rudolph,

for the Prince of Cabano, the sum of five thousand dollars, in consideration of which I have delivered to the said Prince of Cabano the body of my niece, Estella Washington; and I hereby agree, as the custodian of the said Estella Washington, never to demand any further payment, from the said Prince of Cabano, on account of my said niece, and never to reclaim her; and I also pledge myself never to reveal to any of the relatives of the said Estella Washington her place of residence.

     (Signed) Maria Plunkett.

As he finished reading Estella seized the receipt quickly out of his hands, and fixed her eyes eagerly upon the signature.  In a moment she became deadly pale, and would have fallen on the floor, but that I caught her in my arms—­(oh, precious burden!)—­and bore her to a sofa.  Rudolph brought some water and bathed her face.  In a few minutes she recovered consciousness.  She looked at us curiously at first, and then, as memory returned to her, an agonized and distraught look passed over her features, and I feared she would faint again.  I held some water to her lips.  She looked at me with an intense look as I knelt at her side.  Then hey eyes passed to Maximilian and Rudolph, who stood respectfully a little distance from her.  The tears flowed down her face.  Then a new thought seemed to strike her, and she rose to a sitting posture.

“It cannot be true.  My aunt could not do it.  You are strangers to me.  It is a conspiracy.  I will ask Frederika.”

“No! no!” said Rudolph; “not Frederika; it would not be to her interest to tell you the truth.  But is there any one of the servants in whom you have more confidence than all the others?”

“Yes,” she said, “there is Mary Callaghan, an honest girl, if there is one anywhere.  I think she loves me; and I do not believe she would deceive me.”