“Too happy, sir,” she said, with emotion. “It requires all my reason to convince me it is real.”
Lady Hartleton then related to her husband the story of the necklace, to which he listened with grave attention.
At its conclusion, he said,—
“I need not trouble Ada to point out the shop. The description is sufficient. The Jew who keeps it is well known to the police, I have no doubt of getting back the necklace if it be still in this country. It may be an important link in the chain of evidence concerning Ada’s birth.”
“Have you any thought of who I am?” asked Ada, with eagerness.
“I have,” said Sir Francis, “but believe and trust me when I tell you it is for your own peace of mind and happiness that I would rather tell you nothing until I can tell you something which has a firmer basis than conjecture.”
“You are right,” said Ada; “I should but be giving my imagination play, and torturing my mind with perhaps futile fears, and too sanguine hopes.”
“Hope all and fear nothing,” said Sir Francis. “The mere adventitious circumstances of your birth need not affect your happiness, Ada. If you can make this a comfortable home, we shall be much delighted.”
“I cannot speak to you as I ought,” replied Ada, “time may show my deep gratitude, but never can I hope to repay you.”
“And appreciation of kindness, Ada,” said the magistrate, “is its dearest reward. I will now leave you for a little time to call upon your very doubtful friend the Jew.”