post it."

Basil Carruthers laughed contemptuously.

"I shield myself behind a lie!" he said. "Never!"

"You are too late," replied Mr. Forster; "I have already written, and
sent, a very indignant denial, saying you have gone abroad."

Basil's face grew pale, as it had not done during that trial; then an
angry fire flashed from his eyes.

"And you have dared to do this?" he cried. "You have dared to publish a
lie to screen a Carruthers?"

"I would have dared a great deal more to have saved you from public
ignominy," said Mr. Forster.

"Do not apply that word to me!" said Basil, angrily.

"If I do not, every one else will. Your position is ignominious, Mr.
Carruthers; the paltry crime you are charged with is the same; and the
name that for centuries has been honored in England will be low in the
dust, sir. I would rather have been dead than have seen such a day."

The handsome young face changed slightly; evidently these thoughts had
not occurred to him; he seemed to seek solace from some inward source of
comfort of which the lawyer knew nothing.

"I must bear it," he said, unflinchingly.

"There is but one thing you can do," said Mr. Forster; "only one means
of escape--write a letter at once containing a most indignant denial of
the identity. I will go myself purposely to Paris and post it there."

"My dear Forster," said the young man with a smile of languid contempt,
"I would not ransom my life, even, with a lie!"

"In my opinion," said the lawyer, bluntly, "you have done worse in
pleading guilty--you have acted a lie, at least."

"I know my own motive. I am the best judge of my own actions."

"Certainly," was the sarcastic reply. "I should not think any young man
of your prospects was ever in such a position before."

"Perhaps, as I said before, no man ever had the same motive," and a look
of heroism and high resolve came over his face which astonished the
lawyer.

"In the name of your dead father," he said, "who held the honor of his
house so dear, I pray of you to write that letter!"

"Not to save my head from the block!" he replied. "I am here, and I must
bear all that follows. I had hoped to preserve my incognito. If I
cannot, well, I must bear the shame."

"And your mother?" asked the lawyer.

"My poor mother! Perhaps, after all, you had better go down to Ulverston
and tell her! She will begin to wonder where I am. Besides, the London
house must be attended to."

"If I know Lady Carruth