Ida sighed.

“Yes, I know,” she said, in a low voice.

“Very well, then.  I went over to the house the other day to—­well, to look out any little thing which I thought you might like to buy at the sale—­”

Ida pressed his hand and turned her head away.

“It was a sad business, sad, very sad! and I wandered about the place like a—­like a lost spirit.  I was almost as fond of it as you are, my dear.  After I had been over the house I went into the grounds and found myself in the ruined chapel.  Donald and Bess followed me, and Bess—­what a sharp little thing she is, bless her!—­she began to rout about, and presently she began to dig with her claws in a corner under the ruined window.  I was so lost in thought that I stood and watched her in an absent kind of way:  but presently I heard her bark and saw her tearing away like mad, as if she had found a rat or a rabbit.  I went up to where she was clawing and saw—­what do you think—­”

Ida shook her head and smiled.

“I don’t know; was it a rabbit?”

“No!” responded Mr. Wordley, with suppressed excitement.  “It was the top of a tin box—­”

“A tin box?” echoed Ida.

“Yes,” he said, with an emphatic nod.  “I called Jason to bring a spade; but I could scarcely wait, and I found myself clawing like—­like one of the dogs, my dear.  Jason came and we had that box up and I opened it.  And what do you think I found?”

Ida shook her head gently; then she started slightly, as she remembered the night Stafford and she had watched her father coming, in his sleep, from the ruined chapel.

“Something of my father’s?”

Mr. Wordley nodded impressively.

“Yes, it was something of your father’s.  It was a large box, my dear, and it contained—­what do you think?”

“Papers?” ventured Ida.

“Securities, my dear Miss Ida, securities for a very large amount!  The box was full of them; and a little farther off we found another tin case quite as full.  They were securities in some of the best and soundest companies, and they are worth an enormous sum of money!”

Ida stared at him, as if she did not realise the significance of his words.

“An enormous sum of money,” he repeated.  “All the while—­God forgive me!—­I was under the impression that your father was letting things slide, and was doing nothing to save the estate and to provide for you, he was speculating and investing; and doing it with a skill and a shrewdness which could not have been surpassed by the most astute and business-like of men.  His judgment was almost infallible; he seems scarcely ever to have made a mistake.  It was one of those extraordinary cases in which everything a man touches turns to gold.  There are mining shares there which I would not have bought at a farthing a piece; but your father bought them, and they’ve everyone of them, or nearly everyone of them, turned up trumps.  Some of them which he bought for a few shillings—­gold and diamond shares—­are worth hundreds of pounds; hundreds? thousands!  My dear,” he took her hand and patted it as if he were trying to break the shock to her; “your poor father whom we all regarded as an insolvent book-worm, actually died by far and away the richest man in the county!”