Ida looked at him as if she did not even yet quite understand.  She passed her thin hand over her brow and drew a long breath.

“Do you mean—­do you mean that I am no longer poor, Mr. Wordley?” she asked.

Mr. Wordley laughed so suddenly and loudly that he quite startled the hall porter in his little glass box.

“My dear child,” he said, slowly and impressively, “you are rich, not poor; im-mense-ly rich!  I do not myself yet quite know how much you are worth; but you may take it from me that it’s a very large sum indeed.  Now, you are not going to faint, my dear!” For Ida’s eyes had closed and her hands had clasped each other spasmodically.

“No, no,” she said in a low voice, “But it is so sudden, so unexpected, that I cannot realise it.  It seems to me as if I were lying in the cot upstairs and dreaming.  No, I cannot realise that I can go back to Herondale:  I suppose I can go back?” she asked, with a sudden piteousness that very nearly brought the tears to Mr. Wordley’s eyes.

“Go back, my dear!” he exclaimed.  “Of course you can go back!  The place belongs to you.  Why, I’ve already given notice that I am going to pay off the mortgages.  You will get every inch of the land back; you will be the richest lady in the county—­yes, in the whole county!  The old glories of the dear old house can be revived; you can queen it there as the Herons of old used to queen it.  And everybody will be proud and delighted to see you doing it!  As for me, I am ashamed to say that I have almost lost my head over the business, and have behaved like a—­well, anything but like a staid and sober old solicitor.”

He laughed, and blew his nose, and nodded with a shamefaced joy which affected Ida even more than his wonderful news had done.

“How can I thank you for all your goodness to me,” she murmured, a little brokenly.

“Thank me!  Don’t you attempt to thank me, or I shall break down altogether; for I’ve been the stupidest and most wooden-headed idiot that ever disgraced a noble profession.  I ought to have seen through your father’s affectation of miserliness and indifference.  Anybody but a silly old numskull would have done so.  But, my dear, why are we staying here, why don’t we go away at once?  You’d like to go back to Herondale by the first train?  You must hate the sight of this place, I should think.”

“No, no,” said Ida, gently.  “Yes, I would like to go back to Herondale—­ah, yes, as soon as possible.  But I should like to see someone before I go—­the sister, the nurse, who have been so good to me.  You are sure”—­she paused and went on shyly, “you are sure there is no mistake, that I have some money, am rich?”

“Rich as Croesus, my dear child,” he responded, with a laugh.

She blushed still more deeply.

“Then, have you—­have you any money with you, Mr. Wordley?  I mean quite a large sum of money?” “Not a very large sum, my dear,” he replied, rather puzzled.  “About twenty or thirty pounds, perhaps.”