"I tremble to think how much money, I, in my cowardly fear, have lent him. He will want more and more, until he has drained a fortune, and I shall be no safer in the end. I will lend him no more money, Basil; but you, my only friend, shall get the letters."
"I will. How shall I do it! Oh, Lady Lisle, let me fight him—let me punish him as he deserves!"
"No," she said; "he is too cunning. If you were to offer to fight with him, he would know it was for my sake, and he would so place the letters as to fall into my husband's hands if anything happened to him."
But the hot flush did not fade from Basil's face.
"I must thrash him," he cried.
"No; for my sake, and because you would do me true service, you must not," she said.
"I will give him all my fortune for the letters," he said.
"That would not do—he would take your money first, then, holding the letters, would still want more. I will tell you the only plan by which you can help me. Go boldly into the room and bring the letters away."
"But that looks so much like stealing them," he said. "Let me fight him and take them because I win."
"No," she said, sadly. "If you will not help me, as I wish, I must forego all aid, and suffer on."