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Updated: June 12, 2025
As to sending them a present, you can, of course, send them anything you like, to the half of your kingdom; though, if you ask me whether they deserve it " "I didn't ask you," said Ida, with a laugh, putting her hand on his arm. "If we all got our deserts, how sad it would be for everyone of us." Mr. Wordley grunted.
Wordley shook the sister's hand, and blew his nose so loudly that the patients, who had been watching them eagerly, nodded to each other and exchanged significant glances, and there was a suppressed excitement in the ward which found adequate expression when, half an hour afterwards, the sister with flashed cheek and quavering voice made them acquainted with Ida's gift. "And now," said Mr.
Heron, whatever he may have looked, was feeling anything but well at that moment; for he suspected than the lawyer was only masking his attack, and that he meant to spring upon him presently. "I enjoy fairly good health, Mr. Wordley, thank you," he said, in his sanctimonious way; "but I have my share of trials and anxieties in this miserable world."
It was a terrible collapse, and a tragic end, the great Sir Stephen's; but men of his trade always have to run such risks. By the way, I suppose the Villa will have to be sold." "Sold?" echoed Ida. "I would like to buy it." She spoke on the impulse of the moment; but Mr. Wordley did not seem at all surprised, and only smiled as he responded: "I know no reason why you should not, my dear Miss Ida.
Wordley, who suspected him of such intention, nipped it in the bud by saying: "Will you give your arm to Miss Ida, Mr. Heron? I want to get her back to the Hall as soon as possible."
But he found her rather absent-minded and preoccupied and presently, in a pause, she said, with forced calmness: "Is Sir Stephen Orme still at the Villa at Brae Wood, Mr. Wordley?" He had been making some memoranda in his pocket-book and he looked up with a start and stared at her. "Is Sir Stephen My dear child, don't you know haven't you heard?"
Wordley bent his head, and laid his hand on her shoulder. "Yes, I fear you must go," he assented. "But, thank God, you are not without friends, many friends.
Wordley paced up and down the hall with his hands behind his back, listening to the undertaker's men upstairs, and glancing through the window in expectation of the carriage which had been sent for Mr. John Heron. Presently he saw it rounding a bend of the drive, and went into the library to prepare Ida.
The porter, still sympathetic, at a sign from Ida, produced the glass of water and discreetly retired. "Now," said Mr. Wordley, with intense gravity, "prepare to be startled. Be calm, my dear child, as I am; you see I am quite calm!" He was perspiring at every pore, and was mopping his forehead with a huge silk handkerchief. "I have just made a great discovery.
I need not ask why she left your house. It's quite evident enough. I've nothing more to say to you." "One moment," said John Heron, with an attempt at dignity; "perhaps you will be good enough to inform me of the nature of the communication that you have for my cousin Ida." Mr. Wordley looked as if he were going to choke. "No, I will not, sir!" he at last responded.
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