Not that it mattered very much; because he is engaged to a
Miss Falconer, who father is, I believe, a millionaire."
The colour rose to Ida's face, the hand which held the screen shook.
"And they--they are going to be married soon?" asked she.
"I don't know, I suppose not," replied Mr. Wordley, as he bent over his
memoranda again; "Lord Highcliffe has disappeared, left England. No one
seems to quite know where he has gone. It was a terrible collapse, and
a tragic end, the great Sir Stephen's; but men of his trade always have
to run such risks. By the way, I suppose the Villa will have to be
sold."
"Sold?" echoed Ida. "I would like to buy it."
She spoke on the impulse of the moment; but Mr. Wordley did not seem at
all surprised, and only smiled as he responded:
"I know no reason why you should not, my dear Miss Ida. I am not sure
that it would be a good investment; but if you've a fancy for it, I
will enquire into the matter. Yes; certainly you can buy if you want to
do so."
Long after he had gone Ida sat, leaning forward in her chair and gazing
at the fire. Stafford was now Lord Highcliffe, a peer, but poor and a
wanderer.
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