Then when her anxiety had almost grown into a positive pain, the door opened and a tall, gentlemanly-looking man, with an intelligent countenance, entered the room.
Ada rose, but for a moment she could not speak. He who had come in, evidently saw her emotion, for he said in accents of the greatest kindness and tender consideration to her,—
“Sit down, and don’t be alarmed—I will listen to you with patience.”
It was not the words, but it was the tone of genuine heartfelt kindness in which they were spoken, that went direct to the heart of Ada.
Once, twice, she tried to speak, but what all the threats, and all the harshness of Jacob Gray had failed to produce, these few simple words kindly spoken, at once accomplished, and she burst into tears.
Sir Francis Hartleton had merely been told that a young girl wished to see him, and he had not the remotest idea of who she was, or upon what errand she came.
“I pray you to be calm,” he said, “I have no doubt you have something to tell me that afflicts you very much.”
“No, no,” cried Ada.
“No!”
“It is joy—the joy of meeting a kind heart, that forces these tears from me—I am, sir, but too—too happy now.”