"I do!"
Mrs. Read remained comparatively tranquil, saying little, except to supplicate Ida not to leave her.
"You are better—are you not?" inquired the latter, stroking her brow.
"Yes—easier, and more quiet."
"I find your brother has been sent for;" she pursued.
"He has come!" ejaculated Mrs. Read. "Oh! what shall I do? what shall I do?"
"It is unavoidable;—you must meet—why delay it?"
"Oh! he will kill him! he said he would, if he ever spoke to me again!"
More perplexity! Ida staggered under it. Her ingenuousness pointed to the straightest, as the best road. The guilty mind would never be unburdened without confession; but there was solid rock, underlying the foamy flow of Richard's character. When his distrust of Ashlin did not amount to a denned conviction, he had said, that he "dared not see him"—and she recalled his meaning,—"If he crosses my path again!" The dilemma was fearful—a life of concealment to one, murder to the other. Mrs. Read's consternation redoubled on perceiving hers. "What shall I do? oh! if I could die!" she moaned, tossing from side to side. Ida spoke in accents of command—representing the unhappiness she would experience in her intercourse with her deceived brother; the watchfulness, and subterfuges, and the misery of accepting a love she had forfeited; and on the other hand, the remorse of the murderess; the blood of another soul clogging hers; the public ignominy—but this was barely touched upon.