e was
too intent upon hearing the story of her mistress's sojourn in London
to have any breath or inclination to tell any of the dale news. Of
course Ida did not speak of the disagreement at Laburnum Villa, but she
gave Jessie an account of the accident and her experiences of a
hospital ward; at all which Jessie uttered "Ohs" and "Ahs" with bated
breath and gaping month. It was late before Ida got to bed, and later
still before she fell asleep; for, somehow, now that she was back at
Herondale the memory of that happy past grew more vivid; in fact, the
whole place was haunted by the spectre of her lost love: and of all
spectres this is the most sad and heart-possessing.

She was out on Rupert as early as possible the next morning, and it was
difficult to say which was the more pleased at the reunion, he or his
mistress. And oh, what a delight it was to ride across the moor and
along the valley and by the stream; to see the cattle grazing and to
hear the sheep calling to one another in the old plaintive way! It was
almost difficult to believe that she had ever left Herondale that
Laburnum Villa was anything but a nightmare and the Herons a dismal
unreality.

Now, for some time, she avoided that part of the road where the opening
of the plantation gave a view of the Villa; but she was drawn towards
it at last, and she leant forward on her horse and looked across the
lake at the great, white place shining in the autumn sunlight. It
seemed very still and quiet, and there was no sign of life about the
place; the lake itself was deserted save by one of the steamers on
which were only a few passengers well wrapped-up against the now keen
air. The appearance of the white, long-stretching place struck her with
a sense of desertion, and desolation, and with a sigh she turned and
rode away.

That afternoon, as she was coming in from the stable Jessie came
running towards her.

"Oh, Miss Ida, there's Lord and Lady Bannerdale and Lady Vayne and two
of the young ladies in the drawing-room."

"Very well," said Ida, quietly; and removing her right-hand gauntlet,
she went straight into the drawing-room.

In accordance with her father's wish and her own, perhaps mistaken,
pride she had avoided all these people hitherto; but there was no need
to avoid them any longer; she was their equal in birth, and her newly
discovered wealth effectually removed any cause for pride. Lady
Bannerdale, a motherly and good-natured woman, came forwar