But her own heart sank. Contrivance and expedient presented themselves,--all inadequate to the emergency. "Are you willing to brave Richard's wrath, if it affects only yourself?" she asked. "I am! to the shedding of _my_ blood. Your face brightens! Is there any hope?" "Iniquity defeats itself!" said Ida devoutly. "The Helper of the tempted will provide a means of escape. Have we not time, and the knowledge that he is in the city, and liberty to communicate with him? Write him a warning, and _final_ farewell;--he must fly for his life--he will do it! The traitor is seldom brave!" she said inwardly. Mrs. Read's nerveless fingers dropped the pen. "I cannot!" "You must!" said Ida, authoritatively. "His life--your peace, depend upon it. Write! I will dictate." The note was short and imperative. If the hand quivered, the heart that indited did not. "Take comfort!" said Ida, sealing it. "How will you send it?" said Mrs. Read, whom grief and shame had robbed of mind and fortitude. "I will carry it myself." "Oh! not you! what will be said?" "Trust me. If Josephine has emissaries, so have I. I will not compromise myself or you. I was cut out for a conspirator, and to keep up the character, you must disguise me. My appearance on the street so soon after the--yesterday, will excite remark. Ah! this thick veil, and that black mantle, will serve my purpose. Now, would you know me?" "Never--but dear Ida--" But repeating "Take comfort!" Ida kissed her, and went out. She tripped across the back yard, under shelter of the buildings, unlatched the gate, and was safely in an alley, bisecting the square, and parallel with the street upon which the house was built. She walked briskly, thinking over her plan. As in Lynn's case, Charley was her aim; but she was not so sure now of his co-operation. It was a delicate and dangerous matter;--would he be a blind tool? confidence was not to be thought of. With his nice notions of propriety, would he take a note from her to Mr. Ashlin, of whose character she had heard him speak disparagingly. "This is foolish!" she interrupted herself--"he must!" and she was conscious that this word from her, carried with it an authority few had the hardihood to resist. John Dana was in the store, but he did not know her, and sent a clerk forward. "I wish to see Mr. Dana, sir." She raised her veil as he responded to the call. "Ida! my dear child! I should never have recognised you!" "I did not design you should. My errand is with Charley--is he in?" "In the counting-room. What is the matter?" "With me? Nothing, sir;--a state secret. He is my Vizier." "Very well!" said he, smiling. "Walk this way." He pushed aside the baize door, and Ida thought she should faint, as Richard Copeland was discovered talking with Charley. John also retreated. "He is not alone;" he said, "I will call him out." "Not while Mr. Copeland is here!" she faltered. "Oh! I would not have him see me!" "Ida!" "He must _not_ see me, Mr. Dana!"