“Ada! Ada!” cried Gray; “we are lost—lost. We shall be murdered, if you will not be guided by me.” Ada only pointed to the door. Gray was thoroughly alarmed at her decisive manner, and another loud knock at the door at that moment did not tend to pacify his nervous tremors. “There are those at the door who come purposely to seek your life!” “Your life, most probably, Uncle Gray.” “Ada! Ada!” cried Gray. “Each minute—nay, each moment is precious. There is no escape, none—none!” “You are alarmed, Uncle Gray,” said Ada. The perspiration of fear—intense fear, was standing upon the brow of Gray, as he felt that each fleeting moment might be his last. From exultation at the thought of still deceiving Britton and Learmont, he dropped to a state of the most trembling, abject terror. “God of Heaven!” he cried; “you—you will not, cannot refuse to save me!” “Our compact is broken,” said Ada. “I do not believe that I have so much to fear from those who seek admittance here as from him who but a few minutes since stood over me as I slept—” “No—no!” shrieked Gray. “It was not I—” “It was you,” said Ada. “I did not mean to—to kill you.” “The knife was in your hand, uncle; you had destroyed my faithful guard; you trembled; your guilt shone forth with an unholy and hideous lustre from your eyes. Uncle Gray, God can alone see into the hearts of men, but, as I hope for heaven, and—and to meet there my dear father, whom I never knew, I do suspect you much, Uncle Gray.” “Mercy!—Have mercy on me, Ada.” “Ask that of Heaven.” “In your chamber, you have clothing befitting your sex; for such an emergency as this I provided it. Go, oh, go at once, and you may escape as a girl from those who come here to murder a boy.” Ada glanced at the trembling man, who, with clasped hands and trembling limbs, stood before her, and then with a firm voice she said,— “No, no, I cannot.” With a loud crash at this moment the street-door was burst from its hinges. Gray gave one frantic scream, and threw himself at the feet of Ada. “Save—oh, save my life!” he cried. “Have mercy on me, Ada! You shall do with me as you please; I will be your slave,—will watch for you when you sleep,—tend upon you, discover your wishes ever by a look. But oh, save me—save me. I cannot—dare not die!” Ada shuddered at the wild frantic passion of Gray. She struggled to free herself from his grasp, for he clung to her with a desperate clutch. “Mercy! Mercy!” he shrieked. In vain she retreated backwards from him; he crawled after her on his knees, shrieking “Mercy! Mercy!” Now Ada had gained the door of her own room, and with loathing and horror, she tried in vain to disengage herself from Gray. “They come! Ah, they come!” suddenly cried Gray, springing to his feet. “Now, Ada, hear the secret you pine to know!” “The secret?” cried Ada. “Yes, I am your father. These men will apprehend me for murder; but I am your father.”