“Go on, now—go on—it amuses me much—very much—I have not been so interested in anything for a long time—I beg you will go on.”
“You are very kind, sir. Then as I was saying I forgot to tell you that this young girl was, when I first knew her, disguised in the dress of a boy, and called Harry Gray.”
“Disguised as a boy?—Humph—An artful, very cunning trick.”
“Yes, sir, but objectless surely—I thought her a boy, and then she was beautiful, and I could have lived or died for Harry Gray, but when after that, I saw her in the clothing more becoming to her sex, and knew her as my own beautiful Ada, how different were my feelings—I passionately loved her.”
“And she?”
“Returned my heart’s devotion with all the frankness of her noble nature.”
“Where was she when you saw her last?”
“I met her in St. James’s Park—she had fled from the house to which this man Gray had hurried her, and where he had kept her a close prisoner for a weary space of time. Then I madly parted with her, as I thought but for an hour, and I have never seen her since.”
“Where was the house?”
“A ruined condemned house by South Lambeth—a wretched den.”