"I will be gone but a second," she answered; and Mr. Read was still telling Richard how opportune his visit was when she returned. She was the collected, urbane hostess, only an eager glance at each arrival, betrayed nervousness or expectation. Mr. Read watched the door, also; and his displeasure at the tardiness of his favorite was audibly vented. "Helen! why don't Mr. Ashlin come?" he said, in Ida's hearing. Ears less acute would not have distinguished his wife's reply. "Hush! these people are jealous of your preference already. He will be here before long." Ida had mislaid her handkerchief, or not brought it into the room; and Richard offered to favor her retreat by a journey into the next room, to look at some green-house plants. Leaving him bending over them, she ran up-stairs, found the missing article, and was hurrying down, when a ring arrested her upon the lower landing. Thinking to let the visitor enter before her, she stepped back out of sight. "Mr. Ashlin, I beg your pardon, sir," said John, "my mistress told me to give you this before you went into the drawing-room, sir." Mr. Ashlin paused--she judged, to read a note. "All right!" said he. "Tell your mistress, I regret exceedingly that I am called into the country, on account of a friend's danger, and cannot comply with my engagement to Mr. Read this evening. Deliver the message as I have given it. This is for yourself, John. Good day." "Thank you, sir. Good afternoon." Ida's limbs shook beneath her. She had not time to unravel the mystery--for mystery she knew it to be;--Mrs. Read's fright at her brother's entrance; her incoherence and exit; the strangely worded message; the bribe to the servant--swam in a chaotic medley through her mind. She was sick with terror, until warned to conceal her emotions by Richard's saying that "Helen's queer symptoms had become epidemic." Partaker of the alarms of guilt, by her knowledge of the sin,--averse as she was to participation in its concealment, she was possessed with the idea, that to her was committed the work of blinding Richard. While her ears were alert to every sentence uttered around her, and she was quaking at the least approach to a mention of the absentee, she aimed to monopolize Mr. Copeland's sense and thoughts. She anticipated their quitting the table as a blessed change; then a cold agony came over her, at the remembrance that the gentlemen would remain. Discovery, in this case, was inevitable. His wife's caution would not restrain Mr. Read from pledging Mr. Ashlin's health. She thought of bantering Richard into withdrawing with the ladies;--it would be too bold--too forward. He would obey, but his respect for her would be diminished;--as a final alternative, she must venture it--but was there no other? "Our patient does us credit, Miss Ida." Her next neighbor was Dr. Ballard.