even more offensively, and so rouse Ida's
spirit, and render his offer impossible of acceptance.

"Quite so, quite so, my dear sir," he said. "I am quite sure you will
feel only too delighted and honoured at the prospect of taking this
dear child into your family."

"Yes," said Mr. Heron, unctuously, "we will take her in as a lamb
gathered into the fold, as a brand is plucked from the burning."

Ida looked at him half stupefied, and it is to be feared some doubts of
his sanity arose in her mind.

"Quite so, quite so," interrupted Mr. Wordley again. "Then I think the
sooner Miss Ida joins you the better; and I would suggest that she goes
with you to-morrow. I will close the house and leave Jessie, the
maid-servant, and Jason in charge. You and Miss Ida can depend on my
guarding her interests as jealously as if they were my own. I will have
a sale of the stock and other things which we are free to sell, and,
meanwhile, Miss Ida must permit me to advance her some money on account
of the proceeds."

He handed her an envelope in which he had already placed some
bank-notes; but Ida looked at him and slowly shook her head.

"No, no, my dear!" he said. "I should not be guilty of such
presumption. Though you are leaving Heron Hall, though it may be
passing away from you forever, you are still, in my eyes, Miss Heron of
Herondale, and I should not presume to offer you--" His voice broke,
and his eyes filled with tears. "The money is yours, and you can take
it without any loss of the pride which is your rightful heritage. If I
have not offered you a home where you would indeed be an honoured
guest, it is because I know that it would not be fitting for me to
offer it, or you to accept it. Mr. John Heron is your natural guardian;
but though that is so, I will ask you to remember that I claim the
privilege of being your father's friend and yours, and that in any
trouble you will be but honouring that privilege when you come to me
for advice and assistance."

His voice was almost inaudible before he had finished, and Ida, down
whose cheek tears were running for the first time, extended both hands
in mute but eloquent gratitude. They had both forgotten Mr. John
Heron's presence but were reminded of it by something between a cough
and a sniff from him; and at a glance from Mr. Wordley, Ida turned to
the gaunt figure and held out her hand.

"Thank you," she said in a low voice, "I will come with you and stay
with you until--unt