spect to the deceased squire, the
attention of every man and woman was fixed upon the slight, girlish
figure standing by the side of the grave, her head bent, her great
mournful eye fixed upon the coffin, her hands clenched tightly as they
held together the thick mourning cloak. She looked so young, so almost
child-like in the desolation of her solitude, that many of the women
cried silently, and the rough men set their lips hard and looked
sternly and grimly at the ground.

The old clergyman who had christened her and every Sunday had cast
glances of interest and affection at her as she sat in the great "loose
box" of a pew, found it very difficult to read the solemn service
without breaking down, and his old thin voice quavered as he spoke the
words of hope and consolation which the storm of wind and rain caught
up and swept across the narrow church-yard and down the dale of which
the Herons had been so long masters.

Mr. John Heron stood grim and gaunt opposite Ida, as if he were a
figure carved out of wood, and showed no sign of animation until the
end of the service, when he looked round with a sudden eagerness, and
opened his large square lips as if he were going to "improve the
occasion" by an address; but Mr. 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."

Ida was led to the carriage, passing through a lane of sympathisers
amongst whom were representatives of all the great dale families; and
all bent their heads with a respectful pity and sympathy as the young
girl made her way down the narrow path. About half a dozen persons had
been asked to go to the Hall for the funeral lunch, at which Mr. John
Heron, as representative of the family, presided. It was a melancholy
meal; for most of those present were thinking of the orphan girl in her
room above. They spoke in lowered voices of the dead man and of the
great family from which he had sprung, and recalled stories of the
wealth and lavishness of past Herons; and when the meal was over, there
suddenly fell a silence, and all eyes were turned upon Mr. Wordley; for
the moment had arrived for the reading and expounding of the will.

Mr. Wordley rose, coughed, and wiped his eye-glasses, and looked round
gravely.

"As the legal adviser of my late client, Mr. Godfrey Heron, I have to
inform you, gentlemen, that there is no will.