Then Ada looked from face to face, and oh, how different were those honest sympathising countenances to the dark ever shifting expression of the lineaments of Jacob Gray, where avarice, cruelty, and fear were ever struggling together for a mastery.
“Thank you all—thank you all,” she cried; “I am very happy now.”
This was not a very comprehensible speech to those who had not gone through the scene of misery and woe, that the young heart of Ada had known, but still there was a deep truthfulness and sincerity in the tone in which it was uttered that sensibly affected every one.
“Shall I take you home?” said the person who had supported her in the street.
“Home—home?” cried Ada.
“Yes; you are not well enough to go home by yourself; I will see you safely home.”
“I have no home,” said Ada.
“No home?”
“None—I never had a home.”
The people looked at each other in amazement, and several of them significantly touched their foreheads in confirmation of their belief that the beautiful young girl was not quite right in her head.