"I have never yet believed in the success of a lie," said her ladyship.

"Pardon me," said Mr. Forster, grimly, "then you have forgotten the
pages of history. I came down purposely to persuade your ladyship to do
this. I am well aware that at first sight it seems contrary to all one's
notions of truth and honor, but there is so much at stake. My denial,
couched in strong terms, will appear tomorrow. If it were succeeded by a
letter from your ladyship, written in the same strain, people would
laugh and believe that it was a great mistake. I had so many inquiries
this morning before I left London, and I gave the same answer to all,
that it was the sorry jest of an evil-disposed person. If your ladyship
would but second my efforts, all would be well; we could get him through
in safety."

But Lady Carruthers had risen from her seat and stood with her proud
figure drawn to its utmost height.

"I will do anything you propose, save tell a lie. If my son can be
rescued by no other means, he must bear his punishment."

"Then my journey is in vain," said Mr. Forster. "I may return to London
at once."

"No," said Lady Carruthers; "I cannot allow you to return after that
long journey--you must stay and dine with us. Pardon me," she said,
seeing that he looked hurt and uncomfortable. "I have spoken strongly,
but truth has always been far dearer to me than life. I do full justice
to your motives. I appreciate your kindness, but in this manner I cannot
help you. Stay and take dinner with us; then we can consult as to what