“Child of the dead!” cried Ada. “Speak, Jacob Gray. Am I that child? Tell all now that conscience is awakened, and soothe the pangs of your own seared heart by relieving mine of worlds of agony. Speak, Jacob Gray—oh, speak. Tell me who I am now at this moment of awful and bitter repentance. I will forgive all—I will, as you ask, pray for you, Jacob Gray. Heaven will pardon you. Speak—speak to me. Tell me, am I that child?” “Bid—bid—him go!” crawling towards the room. “And then—” “Then—you shall hear—all—all. The sight of him would overturn my reason! Even now my brain reels. Bid him go—implore him not to haunt me—not to drive me mad by a glance!” Ada’s object was more than accomplished. “Wait for me,” she cried, and glided down the staircase, leaving Gray crouched up by the door of the room, with his glowing eyes fixed upon the staircase, in awful expectation of seeing each moment a dreadful form, that would drive him to insanity by one look from its glazed eye. The period of trembling and nervousness was now passed with Ada, and with the lightness and speed of a young fawn, she bounded into the room where sat poor Maud. The poor creature’s eyes brightened as Ada approached, and she said,— “I have not stirred—I have not spoken.” “Hush! Hush,” said Ada. “Speak not now. Here, take this paper. Fly across the fields. Look not back, but get away from this place.” “Yes, yes,” said Maud. “Moments are precious,” continued Ada. “Wherever you go, I conjure you by the remembrance of him you loved, and who you will meet again in the presence of God, to show that paper—but never, never part with it.” “Never, never!” cried Maud. “Oh, never!” “Now follow me. Heaven speed you on your way!” Maud, thrust the paper into her bosom, and allowed herself to be led by Ada to the door. “God bless and help you,” cried the girl. Maud kissed her hand and sobbed bitterly. “Away—away!” said Ada. “Oh, pause not a moment. For my sake hasten.” Like a hunted deer. Mad Maud flew from the Lone House. Ada watched her for a few minutes across the swampy waste, then, the excitement being over, she burst into a passion of tears, and dropped into a state of half insensibility in the passage of the old house. CHAPTER XXXII. Jacob Gray’s Fears.—The Promise.—Ada’s Meditations. How long she remained in the passage of the house, Ada had no means of distinctly knowing, but, when she recovered from her insensibility, she found herself in the parlour alone, and nearly in total darkness. A few moments sufficed to bring to her recollection all that had occurred, and she sprang to her feet, looking anxiously around her, as well as the dim light would permit, to see if Jacob Gray was in the room.