At Love's Cost

"That must have been Miss Ida--Miss Heron, the squire's daughter, sir,"

he said.

Stafford's brows went up.

"No wonder she stared at me," he said, almost to himself. "But are you

sure? The young lady I saw was not dressed, well--like a squire's

daughter, and she was looking after some sheep like--like a farmer's

girl."

The landlord nodded again.

"That was Miss Ida, right enough, sir," he said, with a touch of

respect, and something like pride in his tone. "Indeed, it couldn't be

anyone else. No doubt Miss Ida had come down to look after the sheep in

the valley; and there's no farmer's daughter in the vale that could do

it better, or half so well, as she. There isn't a girl in the county,

or, for that matter, a man, either, who can ride like Miss Ida, or

knows more about the points of a horse or a dog--yes, and you may say a

cow--than the squire's daughter. And as to her being poorly

dressed--well, there's a reason for that, sir. The family's poor--very

poor."

"Yet the dale seems to be called after them?" Stafford remarked.

"It is, sir!" assented the landlord. "At one time they owned more land

than any other of the big families here; miles and miles of it, with

some of the best farms. But that was before my time, though I've heard

my father tell of it; there's not very much left now beyond the dale

and the home meadows." He sighed as he spoke and looked sadly at the

costly cigar which he was smoking. The feudal spirit still exists in

the hearts of the men who were born in these remote dales and towering

hills, and the landlord of the little inn was as proud of the antiquity

of the Heron family, and as sorry for its broken fortune as any

_villein_ of the middle ages could have been for the misfortunes of his

feudal baron.

"Heron Hall used to be a fine place at one time, sir. I can remember my

father describing what it was in his and his father's days; how there

used to be scores of servants, and as many as fifty horses in the

stables; with the great place filled with guests summer and winter,

spring and autumn. The Squire Heron of that time never rode behind less

than four horses, and once, when he was high sheriff, he rode to meet

the judges with six. It was open house to every poor man in the place,

and no wanderer was ever turned from the door. The squire of my

father's time was the county member, and the day he was elected there

were two hogsheads of port and two of brandy broached on the lawn in

front of the terrace; and for a week afterwards there was scarcely a

sober man in the town for miles round. He was master of the hounds, and

the hunt breakfasts and the hunt balls were more splendid than anything

else of that kind in the kingdom; in fact, people used to come from all

parts of the kingdom to attend them. Yes, the Herons made Herondale

famous, as you may say, sir."