Ada, the Betrayed; Or, The Murder at the Old Smithy. A Romance of Passion

by James Malcolm Rymer

The fire had spread with greater rapidity than had been calculated upon, and at the moment of my master’s murder, a portion of the roof fell upon me and the child—I was hurt, but the infant was not—alarm and horror took possession of my faculties, and I fled, shrieking, through the house, seeking for some outlet to escape by—I got confused in a labyrinth of rooms—burning flakes fell upon my flesh—I cried for aid, but no voice answered me, and I felt a conviction that I was purposely left there to perish. Despair lent me strength, and with the child still in my arms, I leaped a burning staircase—I saw a crowd of faces before me, and, with frantic cries, I rushed from the building with the child.

Who, then, snatched the infant from me, I know not, for I was suffering much pain; but certainly it was taken from me by some of the villagers, and I, frantic with the terrors I had received, and believing that the hand of Providence was upon me, fled I knew not whither, until I sunk exhausted from fatigue, in a wood a short distance from the village on the road to London.

The cool night air assuaged the pain of my burns, and after resting for some hours, I found myself sufficiently recovered to think upon what I should next do. Return to the smithy, I dared not, for I dreaded the vengeance of the squire, not only on account of my failing in what I had to do, but I could not dispossess myself of the idea that my death had been determined upon, between him and the smith, so soon as I had killed the child, and was no longer useful to their purposes. I had received, in advance, a sum of money from my tempter, Learmont, and after some thought I resolved upon proceeding to London, and there endeavouring to forget the horrors I had gone through, in the varied amusements of a great city. I turned my back on the village of Learmont, and all its terrible recollections, taking my route to the capital by the quickest means I could find.

It was on the second day that I arrived, and resolving to husband my money until I could procure some other employment, I took an obscure lodgings and kept my expenses as small as possible.

It was the fourth evening after my arrival in London that a woman, who was sitting upon a step, with a child in her lap, implored my charity. I refused her, and was about to pass on, when a glance told me that the child with her was the young Ada Madelini, the child of Mr. Learmont; I paused, and questioned her. She told me her name was Tattan, and said she had fled from the country with the child, to save its life, which had been threatened by a man, wicked and powerful. All this confirmed me—I snatched the child from her arms, for I thought it an admirable possession, since it would give me the means of making my own terms, at some future time, with the Squire of Learmont.

The woman screamed and ran after me, crying for help. No one was near us, and with one blow I silenced her, and she fell to the ground. What became of her I never knew, but I took the child home with me, and the next day I changed my lodging, passing the infant as my own.

From house to house I shifted my residence, always thinking myself suspected by some one, until I went to reside at a low house, kept by a woman, by name Strangeways, who resided in the neighbourhood of Swallow-street. Before going there, however, I bought boy’s clothing for the girl, as I thought it safer to make her appear as a boy than let her real sex be known. Nearly ten years had elapsed, and I was falling fast into poverty, for a concern in which I had placed some money, under tempting promises, proved a failure. Then I bethought me of some means of improving my condition, and recruiting my empty coffers.

After much thought, I resolved upon going to the village of Learmont, and forming a coalition if possible, with the smith, Andrew Britton, for the purpose of extorting money from the rich squire. But previously to going I wrote a paper, containing all the particulars here related, and sealing it, I left it with Ada, who I had named, in conformity with her male attire, Harry, charging her to let it reach the hands of yourself in the event of my not returning by a stipulated time. I went on my errand. It was in the winter, and the snow lay thickly in the valley of Learmont; as I reached the village inn I inquired if the smith, Britton, was still alive; I was told he was, and heard then the clank of his forge-hammer, the same most probably that had taken the life of Mr. Learmont. I sought him, and suffice to say, that I not only convinced him of the inexpediency of attempting aught against my life, which, as I guessed he would be, he was much inclined to do, but succeeded in inducing him to join with me in extorting large sums from the guilty squire.

Britton, too, I persuaded to search the body of the murdered man, when, as I told him, he found papers of great consequence to the squire—papers which he would gladly have redeemed at any price, but which were of infinitely more value as a source of permanent income to their fortunate holder.

I had lent the smith a knife of mine at his own request before the murder, and when I visited him he produced it, stained with human gore, taunting me with the fact that my name was on the handle, and that it would ever prove a damning evidence of my guilt.