Ida murmured a suitable response; but though she was by no means

demonstrative they were satisfied; and as they left they expressed that

satisfaction to each other.

"Oh, yes, she was glad to see us," Lady Bannerdale said; "and I like

her all the better for not meeting us half-way and for refraining from

any gushing. Poor girl! I am afraid she has been very ill, and has felt

her trouble very keenly. She is much thinner, and when she came into

the room there was an expression in her face which touched me and made

my eyes dim."

"We must look after her," remarked Lady Vayne. "There is something

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weird in the idea of her living there all alone; though, of course, her

maid, Jessie, will take care of her."

Lady Bannerdale smiled.

"Ida Heron is one of those girls who are quite capable of taking care

of themselves," she said. "How wonderfully calm and self-possessed she

was. Most girls would have been rather upset, or, at any rate, a little

flurried, meeting us all so unexpectedly; but she came into the room

with the perfect unself-consciousness which marks--"

"The high-bred lady," finished Lord Bannerdale. "I wonder whether we

realise how old a family the Herons is; we are all mushrooms compared

with that slim, little girl, who is now the mistress of Herondale and

an enormous fortune."

"We shall have to find a husband for her," remarked Lady Vayne, who was

the match-maker of the locality.

Lord Bannerdale smiled.

"The trouble would be to get Miss Ida to accept him when you have found

him," he said, shrewdly. "I have an idea she would be difficult to

please; there is a little curl to those pretty lips of hers which is

tolerably significant."

"Poor girl! There is time enough yet to think of such a thing," said

Lady Bannerdale, reprovingly; but while she sat it, mother-like, she

thought that her son, Edwin, would be home from a long tour in the East

in a week or two; that he was particularly good-looking, and in the

opinion of more persons than his mother, a particularly amiable and

good fellow.

The next day there were more visitors; they all seemed as genuinely

glad at her return, and they all made as genuine overtures of

friendship. It was evident that Ida need not be alone in the world any

longer, unless she wished to be. On the morning of the third day, as

she was riding to Bryndermere, with some shopping as an excuse, she met

Mr. Wordley; a gentleman was sitting beside him who, Ida guessed, was

the architect. He proved to be no less a personage than the famous Mr.

Hartley. They had pulled up for the introduction close by the opening

on the lake; and while the architect was exchanging greetings with Ida,

his keen eyes wandered now and again to the Villa; and as Ida turned to

ride back with them, he said: "That is rather a fine place over there, Miss Heron; rather bizarre and

conspicuous, but striking and rather artistic. New, too: whose is it?"




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