“Because what?”
“Nothing—nothing—I have said nothing.”
“Then hear me,” added Ada. “Strange things have been spoken to me.”
“By—it?”
“Yes. Do you recollect an Old Smithy?”
Gray removed his hands from before his face, and sinking on his knees, he crawled towards Ada.
“Mercy! Mercy!” he said, in a husky whisper.
“There was a murder,” continued Ada.
“Ada! Ada!” shrieked Gray. “Child of the dead, spare me! Oh, spare me!”
“Child of the dead!” cried Ada. “Speak, Jacob Gray. Am I that child? Tell all now that conscience is awakened, and soothe the pangs of your own seared heart by relieving mine of worlds of agony. Speak, Jacob Gray—oh, speak. Tell me who I am now at this moment of awful and bitter repentance. I will forgive all—I will, as you ask, pray for you, Jacob Gray. Heaven will pardon you. Speak—speak to me. Tell me, am I that child?”