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.