Isabel's assistance,
hustled and pushed him up the stairs before his father was let in.
After a time Mrs. Heron came down again, and Ida heard her and her
husband talking together--you couldn't whisper in one room of Laburnum
Villa without being heard in another one--and presently the
drawing-room door opened and John Heron entered; Ida had waited, for
she had expected him. He was red and swollen with pomposity and
resentment, though he assumed a "more-in-sorrow-than-in-anger" air, and
threw a deeply grieved tone into his harsh, raucous voice.

"I am deeply grieved and shocked, Ida," he began, "to hear from your
cousin so deplorable an account of your conduct. I am not so unwise as
to look for gratitude in this world, but I did not think you would
repay our kindness and consideration by attempting to wreck the
happiness of a quiet and godly home. Of course, I make all allowances
for your bringing-up; I am aware that in the state of life from which
we rescued you, the spiritual and the religious were entirely absent;
but I had hopes that our precept and, I may say, example, the influence
of a deeply religious family--" by this time his voice had slid into
the nasal whine and growl which it assumed in the pulpit; and Ida,
notwithstanding her wretchedness, again felt an almost irresistible
desire to laugh.

"Please tell me, Cousin John, what it is I have done, what it is you
complain of?" she broke in.

Angered by the interruption, for there is nothing a man like John Heron
hates worse, he snapped out:

"You have been trying to snare the affections of my son; you have even
cast lascivious eyes at the stranger within our gates."

The blood rushed to Ida's face; then she laughed outright, the laugh of
desperation; for indeed, she despaired of convincing these stupid
people of her innocence. The laugh naturally exasperated John Heron,
and his gaunt face grew pallid for an instant.

"I understand!" he said. "You treat our remonstrances with scorn, you
scoff at our rebuke."

"Yes; I am afraid I can't help it, Cousin John," said Ida. "I am sorry
that you should think me so wicked and so--dangerous, and I quite agree
with Isabel and her mother that if I am as bad as you say, I am not fit
to live in a respectable house and with--decent people. It would be
useless for me to assure you that you are all ridiculously mistaken."

"My wife and daughter saw with their own eyes. I am informed that my
son is at this very moment i