It was a much more brilliant ball than Lady Blankyre’s, and was semi-political in its character, for Lord Villiers was in the Cabinet, and there were members of both Houses present, with their belongings. As Esmeralda whirled round the room with a tall guardsman, she was almost inclined to believe that the whole thing was a dream; or that Three Star camp was a dream, and this the reality into which she had awakened. She had just got through the Lancers very creditably, and with that coolness which is born from perfect self-consciousness, when Lord Trafford entered. She noticed that he looked pale and tired, and as if he were anything but glad to be there; and she wondered why he had come. He stood for some time talking to Lord Villiers, and with his eyes bent on the floor, but suddenly he raised them, and caught her direct, speculative gaze. He bowed, and Esmeralda returned the greeting with her frank smile.
Her face was a little flushed with the dance, her eyes were glowing with a young girl’s delight in the rhythmical movement, the soft music, the brilliant scene. He could not deny her beauty, but he sighed as he thought of Ada Lancing, with her strained face and pain-stricken eyes. He did not go up to Esmeralda at once, and it was nearly an hour later when she found him by her side.
“You have been dancing, Miss Chetwynde, I see,” he said. “Have you a dance to give me, or am I too late?”
He held out his hand for her card, and after a moment’s hesitation she gave it to him.
“I am not engaged for all,” she said; “but I ought to tell you that I don’t dance very well. I’ve been practicing for hours at a time since I saw you last, but I’m very uncertain still; sometimes I lose the step, if my partner goes too fast, and then there’s trouble. I think you’d better ask some other lady to dance; you’ll enjoy it more; besides,” she added, naïvely, “you look tired, and as if you’d rather rest.” Her simplicity and appalling candor made him smile.
“What are you laughing at?” she asked.
“You have courage of all kinds,” he said. “To look tired is one of the unpardonable sins. Will you give me this next dance?”
“Yes; but don’t go too fast, please.”
He put his arm round her, and they started. Trafford danced as he did most things, perfectly; and he had no difficulty in accommodating his step to her, now and again, uncertain one.