"Yes, I need. I want you to consider the answer that you would give. I have a reason." Her eager eyes, hot and burning in a face that was strangely white, pled for her. Caspar relented a little, but bent his brows as he replied-- "The extreme penalty of the law, I suppose. It is absurd--but, of course, it is possible. It is not a case in which I should expect penal servitude for life to be substituted, supposing that I were found guilty. But I fail to see your motive for asking what must be to me a rather painful question." "Oh, you are strong! You can bear it!" she said, dropping her face upon her hands. Caspar gazed at her in amazement. He began to wonder whether she were going out of her mind. But before he could find any word of calming or consoling tendency, she flung down her hands and spoke again. "I want you to fix your mind on it for a moment, even although it hurts you," she said. "You are a strong man--you do not shrink from a thing because, it is a little painful. Think what it would mean for yourself, and not for yourself only; for your friends, for those who love you! A perpetual disgrace--a misery!" "You seem anxious to assume that I shall be convicted," he said, still with displeasure. "I tell you I am doing so on purpose. I want you to think of it. You know--you know as well as I do--that the chances are against you!" "And if they are?" "If they are--why do you incur such a risk!" "Mrs. Romaine," said Caspar, gently, but with a steady coldness of tone, of which she did not at first feel the import, "I think you hardly know the force of what you are saying. I do not incur any risk unnecessarily or wantonly: I only wish the truth to be made known. What can I do more--or less?" "You could go away," she said, almost in a whisper. If the room had been lighter, she might, perhaps, have seen the frown that was gathering on his brow, the wrath that darkened his eyes as he spoke: but his face was in shadow, and for a moment anger made him speechless. She went on eagerly, breathlessly, without waiting for a reply. "You might get off quite easily to--to Spain, perhaps, or some place where there was no extradition treaty. You are out on bail, I know; but your friends could not complain. Surely it is a natural enough thing for a man, situated as you are, to wish to escape: nobody would blame you in the long run--they would only say that you were wise. And if you stay, everything is against you. You had so much better take your present chance!" Caspar muttered something inarticulate, then seemed to choke back further utterance, and kept silence for a minute. When he spoke it was in a curiously tranquil tone. "You do not seem to have heard of the quality that men call their honor?" "Oh, honor! I have heard enough about honor," she answered with a nervous, rasping laugh. "And you--_you_ to talk about honor--after--after _what you have done_!"