Ada, the Betrayed; Or, The Murder at the Old Smithy. A Romance of Passion

by James Malcolm Rymer

Maud burst into a wild laugh, and before Sir Frederick Hartleton could speak a word to detain her, she fled in a contrary direction to that which Britton had taken, with great speed.

Hastily springing over the wall, Sir Frederick, as well as he was able by the dim light, pursued the flying woman, his object being the same as Britton’s, namely, to possess himself of the paper in Maud’s possession, and which, he doubted not, was in some way near or remotely connected with the chain of mysteries that enveloped the crimes of Squire Learmont and his associates in guilt, the savage smith and the man named as Gray.

Now and then he could see the flutter of her garments as she rushed along by the wall; and as often as he did, he redoubled his speed with the hope of overtaking, while she was compelled, from the nature of the ground, to go forward in nearly a straight line; for he well knew that after passing the river wall, which did not extend much further from the broken nature of the open country, and several hedges and plantations that were close at hand, he might be completely foiled till daylight in his attempt to follow the poor creature, who most probably fancied she was flying from Britton.

“Maud! Maud!” cried Sir Frederick Hartleton, with the hope that she would recognise that his voice was not that of the savage smith.

His call, however, seemed to alarm her still more, and, in fact, notwithstanding her wild and superstitious confidence in the probability of her outliving the smith, the fear of death from his ruffianly hands had come strongly upon her, and she fled, shrieking from the magistrate, with the full confidence that Britton was pursuing her, armed with the knife she had seen gleaming for an instant above her devoted head. Her fleetness astonished Sir Frederick Hartleton, for swift runner as he was, he could not come up with her.

“Maud!” he cried again, and the poor creature answered him by a scream, which at once convinced him that he inspired her with terror, rather than confidence, by calling after her. He therefore abstained from doing so, and began evidently to gain upon her just as she neared the part of the river’s bank where the low wall terminated.

Now she looked back and screamed again, as she saw his figure dashing onwards through the gloom.

“I am a friend!” cried Sir Frederick Hartleton, but his voice was weak from the violence, from which he had been pursuing Mad Maud, and she heard him not.

Now she reached the end of the wall, and looked round again.—A cry announced her terror, and she turned toward the river instead of the land.

There was a heavy splash, and as he heard it, the awful conviction came across the mind of the magistrate, that the unhappy creature had thrown herself into the Thames to escape him.