“You will know all then,” remarked Gray; “who and what you are, you will know; but if you come not now, I leave you this instant for ever! You’ll never see me more! And in losing me, you lose all clue to the solution of mysteries that will torture you through life.”
“I will go—I will go,” said Ada. “Within the hour we shall return.”
“We shall. Come, Ada, come.”
“The papers that were above in the chest, where are they?”
“In my safe keeping,” cried Gray.
“I am weary. Will you not wait until sunset?”
“Not another moment.”
“Then I—will—go.”
Gray took her by the arm, and they left the house together.
A thousand conflicting thoughts rushed through Ada’s mind. The prominent one, however, was the pleasure it would give her to meet Albert Seyton, no longer the child of mystery, and perhaps of guilt, but the proud descendant of some pure and unsullied house. If she let Gray depart now, with him all chance of unravelling doubts and mysteries which, as he truly said, would torture her through life, would be lost. Albert and his father would come but to encumber themselves with a nameless, destitute girl. That she could not bear, and although she doubted, yet, she trusted Jacob Gray.