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Updated: July 12, 2025
"I have come back to to say good-bye again, sister," said Ida, her voice faltering a little, but her eyes beaming as they had not beamed for many a day; "and I want to give you something, something for the hospital it is from my dear friend here, Mr. Wordley, who has just found me. And I want you not to open it until we have gone say, for half an hour.
"You speak as if you had bad tidings, Mr. Wordley, to give us," said John Heron. "I am afraid I have," responded the old lawyer, shaking his grey head sadly. When Ida came down, he led her to a chair beside the fire which he had ordered to be lit, and laid his hand gently and tenderly on her shoulder by way of preparation and encouragement.
The girl solitary and lonely in her grief as she had been solitary and lonely through her life, would see no one but the doctor and Mr. Wordley, and the people who had once been warm and intimate friends of the family left reluctantly and sully, to talk over the melancholy circumstance, and to wonder what would become of the daughter of the eccentric man who had lived the life of a recluse. Mr.
I went up to where she was clawing and saw what do you think " Ida shook her head and smiled. "I don't know; was it a rabbit?" "No!" responded Mr. Wordley, with suppressed excitement. "It was the top of a tin box " "A tin box?" echoed Ida. "Yes," he said, with an emphatic nod.
"The love of money, the gambling on the race-course and the Stock Exchange, are the root of all evil." Ida seemed not to hear him, and Mr. Wordley ignored the comment. "It now remains for you, my dear child, to decide what to do.
"No will?" said Lord Bannerdale, anxiously; then his kindly face cleared. "But of course everything goes to his daughter; the estate is not entailed?" Mr. Wordley inclined his head. "The estate is not entailed, as you observed, Lord Bannerdale; and my client, Miss Ida Heron, inherits everything."
"Stephen Orme's place," replied Mr. Wordley, in rather a low voice. "Oh," said Mr. Hartley, with a nod which struck Ida as being peculiarly expressive and significant, though she did not know what it implied. The three went all over the old Hall and after lunch the great architect explained, with the aid of a sheet of paper and a pencil, his idea of what should be done.
Ida was silent for a moment as she recalled her father's manner of late, his habit of shutting himself up in the library, of keeping his letters from her, of secreting papers, and, above all, the furtive glances which she had now and again seen him cast at her. "I am afraid that it is only too true," she said. "My poor father! What is to be done, Mr. Wordley? Can I do anything?"
I want to send the Herons a present, a really nice present that will help them, I hope, to forget the trouble I caused them. Poor people! it was not their fault; they did not understand." Mr. Wordley snorted. "There is one topic of conversation, my dear Miss Ida, I shall be compelled to bar," he said. "I never want to hear Mr. John Heron's name again.
Then they had been near each other, had looked into each other's eyes! Perhaps she would never seem him again but, ah, yes! it was quite probable she would, for was he not engaged to the wealthy Miss Falconer, and would he not come back to marry her? The following evening she received a short note from Mr. Wordley: it informed her that the Villa was not for sale. It had been purchased by Mr.
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