“No, Ada, far be it from me to say you shall not take a tour through London in search of him. If you accomplish no more by such a step, you may at least please your mind with the reflection that you have taken it.”
“You will let me go then?”
“Yes, but not alone. I will accompany you wheresoever you please to go, and some experienced officer, of Sir Francis’s own choosing, shall follow us in case of need. I think then we may venture anywhere.”
“Generous friend,” cried Ada. “Oh, may Heaven give me words to say how much I thank you.”
“I am thanked already,” said Lady Hartleton, with a smile. “The idea of active exertions has already kindled a colour in your cheeks, Ada, and lent new animation to every feature of your face.”
“I shall be better satisfied, even if I altogether fail,” said Ada. “I have been now for so many years accustomed to look to myself for resources of action, that when anything nearly concerning me has to be done, I am unhappy if I am not doing it myself. Forgive me, dear lady, for all this troublesome spirit, but recollect I am a young wayward thing, brought up in solitude and harshness, early accustomed to repress every fond emotion, and my heart’s best feelings oftener checked with a blow, than encouraged by a smile.”
“We will go as soon as I can consult Sir Francis about who shall accompany us,” said Lady Hartleton.
Ada could only look her thanks, and Lady Hartleton left the room in search of her husband, who gave a more ready consent to the scheme than she imagined he would, only that he said he would send with them two officers on whom he could thoroughly and entirely depend.
“You will then be as safe,” he said, “as if you were in your own drawing-room, and if it will satisfy the mind of Ada, I advise you to go at once.”
With this Lady Hartleton returned to Ada, and in ten minutes they were equipped for their walk, the two officers being strictly ordered by Sir Francis never to lose sight of them for a moment.