That morning Ida came down-stairs singing, not loudly, but in the soft
undertone which a girl uses when she is supremely happy and she has
hopes of seeing the cause of her happiness very soon. All through
breakfast, while Mr. Heron read his letters, opening them and reading
them stealthily as usual, her heart was singing its love-song to her,
and she was wondering whether she would meet Stafford by the stream or
among the hills. That she should meet him she felt quite sure, for he
had never failed to leave the gay party at the Villa to come over to
her every day.

Perhaps he had spoken to his father, and, in the wonderful way men
have, had swept aside all the obstacles which stood against their
union. He was so strong, so self-reliant, so masterful--though so
gentle with her--that surely no obstacles could stand against him. She
was so absorbed in her thoughts that she almost started when Jason
appeared and, looking from her to Mr. Heron, announced that Mr.
Wordley, the family lawyer, was in the library.

Mr. Heron flushed and scrambled his letters and papers together as he
rose.

"Won't Mr. Wordley come in and have some breakfast?" suggested Ida. But
her father, shaking his head impatiently, said that Mr. Wordley was
sure to have had his breakfast, and shuffled out of the room.

A few minutes after he had gone, Jessie came in for the day's orders,
and Ida dragged her thoughts away from the all-absorbing subject and
plunged into housekeeping. It was not a lengthy or a very elaborate
business, alas! but when it was over Jessie lingered and began
collecting the breakfast things, glancing shyly at Ida, as she always
did when she wanted to gossip.