Sir Francis then took from a secret drawer the small scraps of paper which he procured from mad Maud, and read them again attentively.
“These are interesting to me,” he said, “as leading me on in my chain of conjecture; but they are no evidence, for, first of all, who is to prove they were ever written by Jacob Gray, or in his possession; and secondly, they are too vague in themselves to be of any importance, unless merely used as evidence corroborative of facts which can be nearly proved without them. The question now is, has Gray written a full disclosure of who Ada is, and what crime has led to her being placed in so singular a position, or not? Well, I will crave of the minister another week; and then consent to withdraw my charges against Learmont for the present. He must triumph, I suppose, and I cannot help it.”
He then sought Lady Hartleton, and informing her of what he had discovered concerning Albert, begged her to communicate the same to Ada as carefully as she could, so as not to shock her sensitive mind too suddenly with the news of the bad faith of him to whom she had given her heart.
Lady Hartleton was so much accustomed to rely upon the judgment of her husband, that, although she was not without some lingering doubts, after all there might be some possible explanation of the conduct of her lover, she consented to the task which was set her, and immediately went to Ada to communicate the sad intelligence.
“My dear Ada,” said Lady Hartleton, “there are circumstances which have induced Sir Francis not to ask Mr. Seyton to come here.”
Ada started, and with a heightened colour she said in her soft gentle voice,—
“Lady, you have already done too much for the poor and friendless girl whom chance threw in your way—I ought never to have accepted—”
“Now, Ada, you mistake me,” interrupted Lady Hartleton, “the cause which prevented Sir Francis from bringing Albert here with him, has no reference to anything but the young man’s want of worth.”
“Albert Seyton’s want of worth?” said Ada.
“Yes—my dear Ada. You have a great enemy in London—an enemy who would take your life, and when I tell you that Albert Seyton is in the confidential service of that enemy, there is good cause of suspicion.”