"You are mad!" said Mrs. Read, regaining her composure. "You cannot stop me. My home is in another land. Why do you talk of disgrace? the brutal dotard I fly from, will unfasten my legal fetters, and then I shall live! the life for which my Creator destined me!"
"You speak your Creator's name! trampling upon His laws—His curse hanging over you! Oh! I entreat you, by a mother's prayers—for the sake of your old father, tottering upon the verge of the grave—in the name of your honorable and loving brother, not to expose your design! You shall not—you cannot go; the doors are locked—-call for assistance from those who are without, and I will alarm the household. To-morrow your name will be trumpeted at the corner of every street. Ha! that cry! they have discovered all! Too late! too late! but no!—" She tore off the cloak and bonnet, and threw them into a corner, as Sarah rushed down the steps.
"Mistress! Miss Ida! for the Lord's sake, come! Master is dying!"
A cry from Josephine pierced their ears. Ida forgot her companion, but she reached the chamber with her. Writhing, convulsed, screaming, he was wrestling with the Destroyer; the disease had grappled his heart. Mrs. Read sank upon her knees, as blasted by a thunderbolt; Josephine shrieked in helpless dismay; Ida was wrought up to too high a pitch, to think of self.
"Where is John?" she cried. "Here! run for Dr. Ballard! Mr. Read is very ill! Call for Mr. Talbot as you come back. Fly!"
He was down stairs while she was speaking. "Why, Miss Ida, the key is not here!"
She ran for it, unlocked the door, and pushed him out. A man stood in the shade of the porch, whom John did not perceive, in his rapid egress; but he seized Ida's hand, as she would have shut him out.
"Helen!"
"Mrs. Read's husband is dying, Mr. Ashlin!"
"Good heavens!"