But I know! He--he will be very angry," she said, in a low voice.
"Will he?
Why ?" Stafford asked.

"Of course I know I'm not worthy of you, Ida; no living man is!" "Not worthy!" She smiled at him with the woman's worship already dawning in her deep grey eyes.
"It is I who am not worthy.

Why, think! I am only an inexperienced girl--living the life of a farmer's daughter.

We are very poor--oh, you do not know how poor! We are almost as poor as the smallest tenant, though we live in this big house, and are still regarded as great people--the Herons of Herondale." "That's one of the things I have been thinking of," said Stafford.
"What lovely hair you have, Ida! It is not often that dark hair is so soft, is it ?" He bent down and drew a look, which his caresses had released, across her lips, and kissed her through it.
"You are lords of the soil, people of importance and rank here, while we are--well, just ordinary folk.

I can quite understand your father objecting.