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.  My client died intestate.”

The listeners exchanged glances, and looked grave and concerned.

“No will?” said Lord Bannerdale, anxiously; then his kindly face cleared.  “But of course everything goes to his daughter; the estate is not entailed?”

Mr. Wordley inclined his head.

“The estate is not entailed, as you observed, Lord Bannerdale; and my client, Miss Ida Heron, inherits everything.”

They drew a breath of relief, and nodded assentingly; and presently they made a general movement of departure.  Lord Bannerdale lingered behind the others.  “I won’t ask the poor child to see me, Mr. Wordley,” he said.  “Will you therefore be good enough to give her Lady Bannerdale’s love, and to tell her that, as Lady Bannerdale has written to her, we shall be more than pleased if she will come to us at the Court.  She is to consider it her home for just as long as she should please; and we shall feel it a pleasure and an honour to have her amongst us as one of our own.  Of course she cannot remain alone here, in this great place.”

The old lawyer bowed.

“I will give her your kind message, for which I thank you on her behalf, Lord Bannerdale.  I do not know what she will do, or where she will go; at present she is not in a condition to discuss any plans for her future, though to-day she expressed a desire to remain at the Hall.”  He paused for a moment before he added:  “I do not know whether she can do so.”

“My cousin is young, and a mere child, and she must follow the advice of her elders and her guardian.  The future of even the sparrow is in higher hands than ours, and we know not what a day may bring forth,” said Mr. John Heron, grimly, and with an uplifting of his heavy brows.

“Quite so,” said Lord Bannerdale, who had taken a great dislike for the sanctimonious speaker, and who could scarcely repress a shudder as he shook Mr. John Heron’s cold and clammy hand.