Ada’s pure and innocent heart detested all kinds of duplicity; but if ever such was justifiable, it was surely then; and to save the life of the poor creature who had sought shelter with her, and had suffered so much wrong and unmerited persecution, was a justification which, with the rapidity of thought, came to Ada’s relief. “There is some one below,” she said. “You—you saw—it?” “I did.” “And—and—followed it?” Gray licked his parched lips, as after a pause he added.— “Ada—a—what manner of appearance was it?” “Will you follow it with me?” “Not for worlds—not for worlds,” cried Gray. “Tell me, Ada, was—was—was it a man of—tall stature.” “It was,” said Ada. “Of—of noble bearing—hair—slightly silvered?” “Even so.” “I—I thought—’twas he. I—I saw him once at the door—in that—that smithy. Yes, that has begun now. I—shall be haunted now—for ever. Oh, horror! Horror!” The word “smithy” struck upon Ada’s ears, and for one moment she could not recollect why it came as if it were an old recollection to her. Then she remembered that Mad Maud had spoken of a murder at an Old Smithy, and she asked herself, can there be any connection between all these dark hints of things long past and my own fate? There must be—I will probe your heart, Jacob Gray. “I will tell you,” she said, turning suddenly to Gray. “Listen! A wild bleeding form has appeared in this house.” “Bleeding?” gasped Gray. “Yes, bleeding.” “And—and—it is—” Gray pointed down the staircase. “It is there,” said Ada. Gray shuddered, as he said,— “Can you—look on it, and live?” “I can.” “God help me!” “Come with me, and we will together question it further,” said Ada. “No! No! No!” cried Gray. “The sight would blast me forever. Ada! Ada! If you have one spark of pity, one yearning of heavenly mercy in your heart, you will pray for—me—pray for me!” “For you—my persecutor?” “Implore that hideous form to visit here no more. I shall go mad!—Mad!—Mad!” Gray hid his face in his hands, and groaned bitterly. “In his anguish he may confess all,” thought Ada, and hastily calling to her memory the words spoken by Maud, she said in a solemn whisper,— “Jacob Gray, the bleeding form that has visited is not terrible to me.” “No, no,” said Gray, “because—” “Because what?” “Nothing—nothing—I have said nothing.” “Then hear me,” added Ada. “Strange things have been spoken to me.” “By—it?” “Yes. Do you recollect an Old Smithy?” Gray removed his hands from before his face, and sinking on his knees, he crawled towards Ada. “Mercy! Mercy!” he said, in a husky whisper. “There was a murder,” continued Ada. “Ada! Ada!” shrieked Gray. “Child of the dead, spare me! Oh, spare me!”