“I may as well,” thought Ada, with a shudder, “meet my death from his hands above as by starvation in this place.”
She placed her foot upon the ladder, and slowly ascended. When she neared the top, Gray reached out his hand, and assisted her into the room in which he was.
“You tremble, girl!” he said.
“And so do you,” replied Ada, fixing her eyes upon Jacob Gray’s pale face.
“You—you think I mean you harm,” he said, in a hesitating tone, and avoiding Ada’s gaze as much as possible.
“Think!” repeated Ada,—“think, Jacob Gray!”
“Jacob Gray?” he cried. “You speak strangely. I thought you now knew me.”
“I do—too well,” said Ada.
“I have told you I am your father, girl.”
“You have told me.”