Ada’s Home.—A Happy Scene.—The Serenity of Goodness.
Sir Francis Hartleton on that same evening was immersed in deep though
on Ada’s prospects and affairs. So multifarious and complex had even
what he knew concerning her and her fortunes become, putting aside all
that he surmised, that now he had repaired to his own quiet little
room, in which he was never interrupted and sat down, as much for the
clearing of his own mind upon the subject, as for any other
considerations, to write in detail all the various circumstances
connected with the history and fortunes of Ada.
When he came fairly to separate what he knew from what he only surmised
he felt much disappointed at the limited facts that really appeared
upon paper, and as we have before intimated, he found himself in the
disagreeable position of suspecting much and knowing little—able to
surmise much more than he could prove, and morally certain of many
things which he despaired of ever finding the means of making clear by
proof.
The connection of Learmont with the same crimes in which Gray and
Britton had been participators was very clear, but could he specify
those crimes? It was not enough to say—“So and so is a criminal,” but
it was necessary to tell and define such a charge; and Sir Francis
Hartleton felt keenly all the advantage which such a man as Learmont
would have over him, were he to make a loose and unsupported attack
against him.
Having finished his narrative, Sir Francis sat in deep thought for more
than an hour, but yet could not form any satisfactory conclusion, nor
determine upon any course of action which would not be attended with
what he considered the worst consequence of all, namely, putting
Learmont thoroughly upon his guard.
He foresaw that he could not persevere, for a very long period of time,
upon the unwilling and rather unprecedented power given to him by the
Secretary of State, but that Jacob Gray must shortly be apprehended for
the murder of Vaughan, when it was more than probable that all chance
of discovering Ada’s real history through him would be lost; for what
inducement could be offered to such a man as Gray to do an act of
justice, when his own life could not by any possibility be spared, but
must be taken by the hands of the law for a clear and distinct
murder,—not to take into consideration the assassination of Elias, in
the lone house at Battersea.
It had more than once occurred to the mind of the magistrate to search
the ruins of the house in which Gray had resided, but then, as often,
the extreme improbability of such a man leaving anything behind him of
a character to criminate him in any way, saving the dead body of the
murdered officer, came so strongly across him that he rejected as
useless the attempt.
The smithy, too, at Learmont he longed to search effectually, but how
could he do so without observation in such a place; and should such a
proceeding come to the ears of Learmont, he might well complain of a
trespass upon his own premises, for the purpose of endeavouring to get
up some charge against him of a secret and undeclared nature.
“No,” exclaimed Hartleton, with disappointment, as he rose from his
chair, “I must not. There is no resource but patience, and, for a short
time, this man Gray, with all his crimes upon his head, must be
suffered to remain at large, unless some meddling person apprehends him
upon suspicion merely, in which case the law must take its course; for
although I can and may take no steps to make him a prisoner, I dare not
discharge him if once taken.”
As we have mentioned, it was mere humanity which induced Sir Francis
Hartleton to order poor Maud to be brought to him. He was very far
indeed from suspecting her possession of the important scraps of Jacob
Gray’s written confession, which she had rescued from among the charred
rafters of the house at Battersea and he received the report of the
officer, who had been commissioned to find her to the effect that he
had not yet been able to take her, without much feeling upon the
subject, engrossed as his mind was with other matters.
After thus turning the whole affair over in his mind, and, for the
present resolving to do nothing, but wait and see what the chapter of
accidents would bring forth Sir Francis left his study, and sought the
society of his young and amiable wife and Ada.
During the very short residence of Ada with Sir Francis Hartleton and
his lady, she had endeared herself greatly to them. Her love of
truth—her earnest depreciation of every wrong, and the sweet simplicity
of her character had placed her so high in their esteem, that they had
resolved she should never leave the friendly shelter of the roof,
unless circumstances should arise to place her in a happy home of her
own.
From all these circumstances and conclusions, it will be seen that not
one of our characters, variously situated as they are, have great cause
for congratulation on their prospects, with the exception of Ada, to
whom it was a new and beautiful existence to be free from the
persecutions of Jacob Gray. There was but one sad spot in the young
girl’s heart now, and that was, that loving, respecting, and admiring
as she did Sir Francis Hartleton and his lady, she did not feel for
them what she felt for Albert Seyton; and many, very many of the
gushing feeling of her heart were constrained to calmness and mere
courtesy, because she felt that to the ears of a lover would they alone
seem other than the enthusiastic dreams of a young and ardent
imagination.
Sir Francis’s wife, as we have remarked, sympathised much more with Ada
concerning the probable fate or circumstances of Albert Seyton, than
her husband could be expected to do; and it was at her solicitation
that he now gave directions to some of his most active officers, to
spare neither expense nor trouble to discover if the young man was in
London or not.