Reasoning thus the magistrate followed Albert Seyton sufficiently close to be certain he could enter no house without his observation; and yet at the same time, at such a distance as to run no great risk of recognition should the young man turn round.
Little did poor Albert, whose mind was, at the present moment, so full of recollections of his Ada, that he scarcely knew whither his footsteps led him, imagine that he had not only passed her within twenty paces, but was now actually kept from her because there was a doubt of the sincerity of that passion which was at once the bliss and the bane of his existence.
Sir Francis could not hear the deep sighs that burst from the labouring heart of the young man, as he whispered to himself—
“My Ada—my beautiful and true! Oh? When will kind Heaven bless my eyes, by permitting me to gaze upon thy face again? The summer’s sun may shine bright’y for others, and the green earth look beautiful, but there is a cloud upon my spirits, and all is dreary, bleak, and desolate to me without you, my beautiful Ada!”
Alas! Poor Albert—if already Sir Francis Hartleton, from your long absence from his office, entertains lingering unwelcome doubt of your feelings for Ada—what harsh suspicions are you not about to subject yourself to within the next quarter of an hour. How near are you to the completion of your fondest hopes, and yet how distant—long sought for as you have been, you are now found but to be avoided.
The young dejected lover passed onwards in his sorrow, and Sir Francis, whose anxiety was increasing each moment, followed with his eyes fixed on him alone, and totally unobservant of the many curious glances that was cast upon his animated and anxious looking countenance by the passengers.
They passed the Horse-guards—the low mean building which was then devoted to other purposes, and which is now the treasury—and still onwards went Albert listlessly as before. Now he turned down a small street behind Parliament-street. Then another turning led him into large handsome thoroughfare; his steps quickened and he, at length, paused by the steps of a large mansion. Sir Francis Hartleton stopped, but kept his eyes rivetted on the young man. He saw him ascend the steps—could he believe his eyes? Yes—it was—it must be Learmont’s house. Then magistrate walked forward. He was not mistaken—Albert Seyton had entered the house of Learmont. The surprise of the magistrate was intense in the extreme. Here was the lover of Ada on visiting terms, if not on more intimate ones, with her worst foe. What was he to think? Had gold had its influence upon the young man—and had he sold himself to the wealthy squire, changing from a lover of Ada to one of the conspirators against her peace? Was such conduct possible? Or had the professions of Albert Seyton been from the first those of a hypocrite? Had he always been a creature of Learmont, and only deputed to perform the part he had played in order the more easily to entangle the young pure girl into an inextricable web of villany?
As these painful reflections passed rapidly through the mind of Sir Francis, he saw a livery servant descend the steps of Learmont’s house bearing a letter in his hand.
“I will question this man,” he thought. “He is going on some message in the neighbourhood, and I dare say will be communicative enough to satisfy me with regard to the position held by Albert Seyton in Learmont’s house.”
The man came down the street towards Sir Francis, who, when he came sufficiently near, said in a careless manner,—