At Love's Cost

The old clergyman who had christened her and every Sunday had cast

glances of interest and affection at her as she sat in the great "loose

box" of a pew, found it very difficult to read the solemn service

without breaking down, and his old thin voice quavered as he spoke the

words of hope and consolation which the storm of wind and rain caught

up and swept across the narrow church-yard and down the dale of which

the Herons had been so long masters.

Mr. John Heron stood grim and gaunt opposite Ida, as if he were a

figure carved out of wood, and showed no sign of animation until the

end of the service, when he looked round with a sudden eagerness, and

opened his large square lips as if he were going to "improve the

occasion" by an address; but Mr. Wordley, who suspected him of such

intention, nipped it in the bud by saying: "Will you give your arm to Miss Ida, Mr. Heron? I want to get her back

to the Hall as soon as possible."

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."