In the meanwhile Jacob Gray remained in the vault, threatening Ada, until he thought all danger must be past, from the extreme quiet that reigned in the house. Not the most distant notion of Sir Francis Hartleton’s leaving any one behind him to keep watch in the lonely mansion, occurred to Jacob Gray, and after half an hour, as he guessed, had very nearly passed away, he began to breathe a little more freely, and to congratulate himself that for that time at least the danger had blown over his head.

During that half hour he made a determination to leave the house, and for the short time now that he would stay in England—for he was thoroughly scared, and resolved to be off very soon—he would take some lodging for himself and Ada, at the same time binding her by a solemn promise, as before, not to leave him, which promise he would now render less irksome to her, by representing that in a short time she should be quite free to act as she pleased, as well as knowing everything that might concern her or her future fortunes.

With this idea, and believing the danger past, he spoke in a more unembarrassed tone to Ada.

“Ada,” he said, “be not deceived—the voice you heard calling upon you was not that of Sir Francis Hartleton. That name was assumed merely to deceive you to your destruction. You, as well as I, have escaped a great danger—so great a danger, that I shall hasten my departure from England, and you may rest assured now that within one month of time you will be rich and free.”

“Indeed!” said Ada, incredulously.

“You may believe me,” said Gray; “on my faith, what I say is true.”

“’Tis hard to believe him who would murder one moment, and promise wealth and freedom the next.”

“I was forced to threaten your life, Ada, for my own, as I tell you, hung upon a thread; you will not repent this day’s proceedings when you are happy with him you love, and surrounded by luxury.”

Ada started; and had there been light enough in that dismal place. Gray would have seen the mantling flash of colour that visited the cheek of the persecuted girl, as the words he spoke conjured up a dream of happiness to her imagination, that she felt would indeed pay her for all she had suffered—ay, were it ten times more. She did not speak, for she would not let Jacob Gray guess, from the agitation of her voice, the effect that his words had produced, and after a pause he said to her,—

“Remain here while I go into the house and see that all is safe. They must be gone by this time, Jacob Gray has foiled them once again, but he will not incur the danger a third time, I assure you. Ada, as I live and breathe your thraldom shall not—cannot last another month.”