“Then you rely upon me. If needs be, I will become such powerful assistance for you that you must succeed; and should you by any means discover the abode of this Jacob Gray, I think you had better bring me word, without adopting any mode of action of your own, and then we can consult upon some safe and effectual means of serving you.”
“I feel your kindness, sir, most sensibly,” said the grateful Albert, “and—”
“Well, well,” interrupted Learmont—“I am sure you will be grateful. I have no service for you to-day, for it is long past the hour this man should have been here; but attend me here to-morrow morning at the same time.”
“I shall be punctual, sir,” said Albert rising.
“Good day—good day,” said Learmont.
Albert bowed and left the room.
CHAPTER LXXXI.
Learmont’s Improved Prospects.—The Park.—Ada’s Recollections.—The Meeting.
When Learmont was once more left alone, a dark scowl of triumph came over his face, and he breathed more freely than he had done for many a day.
“So,” he said “many mysteries are suddenly cleared up now; I—I am myself again. A weight is lifted off my heart. Several things are now clear and plain to me that I have been tortured with for many days. This being who has been my bane, and is now my greatest danger, is a girl, and not a boy, as Jacob Gray would always fain have made me think. He has lost her too; and it must have been she whom I saw at my door step and at the window of Sir Francis Hartleton. So far all is clear; and Gray’s confused manner, wretched appearance, and offer to compromise with me when last we met are now accounted for. He has lost his great stronghold upon me, losing the child of—of—I cannot name him. No—no—his name shall never pass my lips.”