“And—and—” said Ada.
“And believe him true,” continued Sir Francis, “although the victim of as strange a series of circumstances as ever fell to the lot of mortal man.”
Ada burst into tears, and sobbed for very joy, while the magistrate turned his head aside to conceal his own emotion.
“My dear Ada,” he said, after a pause, “I have much, very much to tell you that concerns you mostly, but I will not now detain you to listen to me. Take this key; it opens the little eastern room which looks into the garden. Release the prisoner you will find there.”
“It is Albert?” said Ada.
“It is—”
She rose and placed both her hands in those of Sir Francis Hartleton, and smiling upon him through her tears, she said,—
“Dear friend; can I ever thank you—can the poor Ada ever hope even in words to convey to you the full gratitude of her heart?”
“Let me see you happy, Ada,” said Sir Francis, “and I am more than repaid. Go to you lover, who is, I fear, a very impatient prisoner, and tell him, from me, that I will never interfere with him again, let him do what he may.”
Ada could not understand what Sir Francis meant by his last words, but at that moment she was not much inclined to ask explanations, but taking the key while her hand trembled, and her lustrous eyes seemed swimming in an ocean of tenderness as she glided from the room to rescue her lover.