“I quite understand, my dear,” he said.  “I honour you for that feeling.  Well, then, I shall engage an architect of repute, the first in his profession”—­he rubbed his hands with an air of enjoyment—­“and he shall restore the old place, with a respect and reverence.  I think I know the man to employ; and we will start at once, so that no time may be lost, I want to see you settled in your proper position here.  The thought of it gives me a new lease of life!  Of course, you will want a proper establishment; more servants both in the house and out of it; you will want carriages and horses; both the lodges must be rebuilt, and the old avenue opened out and put in order.  Heron Hall was one of the finest places in the county and it shall be so again.”

“And Jessie shall be the housekeeper and Jason the butler,” said Ida, with a laugh of almost child-like enjoyment.  “Oh, it all seems like a dream; and I feel that at any moment I may wake and find myself at Laburnum Villa.  And, oh, Mr. Wordley, I shall want some more money at once.  I want to send the Herons a present, a really nice present that will help them, I hope, to forget the trouble I caused them.  Poor people! it was not their fault; they did not understand.”  Mr. Wordley snorted.

“There is one topic of conversation, my dear Miss Ida, I shall be compelled to bar,” he said.  “I never want to hear Mr. John Heron’s name again.  As to sending them a present, you can, of course, send them anything you like, to the half of your kingdom; though, if you ask me whether they deserve it—­”

“I didn’t ask you,” said Ida, with a laugh, putting her hand on his arm.  “If we all got our deserts, how sad it would be for everyone of us.”

Mr. Wordley grunted.

“To-morrow I shall pay a sum of money into the bank for you, and you will have to drive over and get a cheque-book; and you can amuse yourself by drawing cheques until I come again.”

He lingered as long as he could, and kept the carriage waiting some time; but at last he went and Ida was left alone to face the strange change in her fortune.  She sat before the fire dreaming for a few minutes, then she wandered over the old house from room to room; and every room had its memories and associations for her.  In the library she could almost fancy that her father was sitting in the high-backed chair which was still drawn up in its place to the table; and she went and sat in it and touched with reverent, loving hand the books and papers over which he had been wont to bend.  She stood before his portrait and gazed at it with tear-dimmed eyes, and only the consciousness of the love she had borne him enabled her to bear his absence.  As she passed through the hall the newly risen moon was pouring in through the tall window, and, followed by Donald and Bess, who had not left her for a moment, she opened the great hall door and went on to the terrace, and walking to the end, stood and looked towards the ruined chapel in which her father had buried his treasure.