Mr. Wordley coughed discreetly. They certainly had not asked her, but he felt quite assured that an individual whose reputation for sanctity stood so high could not be so deficient in charity as to refuse a home to his orphan cousin.
"They have not sent you any definite invitation yet, but they will be sure to want you to go and stay with them, for a time, at any rate; and I think you ought to go."
"I do not think I should like it," said Ida, but indifferently, as if the question were of no moment. "I would rather stay here"
Mr. Wordley polished his glasses very intently.
"I am afraid you'd find it very lonely at the Hall, my dear," he said. "In fact, I don't think you could remain here by yourself," he added, evading the direct gaze of the great, sad eyes.
"I should feel lonely anywhere," she said. "More lonely with people I don't know, probably, than I should feel here, with Jessie and Jason—and—and the dogs."
"Well, well, we can't discuss the question now, and will endeavour to act for the best, my dear," said the old man, still intent upon his glasses. "I hear the carriage. I will bring Mr. John in." He returned in a minute or two, accompanied by a tall and gaunt individual, who, in his black clothes and white necktie, looked a cross between a superior undertaker and a Methodist preacher. His features were strongly marked, and the expression of his countenance was both severe and melancholy, and, judging by his expression and his voice, which was harsh and lachrymose, his particular form of religion did not appear to afford him either amusement or consolation.
"This is your cousin, Mr. John Heron," said poor Mr. Wordley, who was evidently suffering from the effects of his few minutes' conversation with that gentleman.
Mr. John Heron surveyed the slight figure and white face with its sad, star-like eyes—surveyed it with a grim kind of severity, which was probably intended for sympathy, and extending a cold, damp hand, which resembled an extremely bony shoulder of mutton, said, in a rasping, melancholy voice:
"How do you do, Ida? I trust you are bearing your burden as becomes a Christian. We are born to sorrow. The train was three-quarters of an hour late."