A flush rose to Lady Ada’s face, then died away, leaving it paler than before.
“It was stupid and ungrateful of me not to remember you the other night,” she said. “Will you forgive me, Miss Chetwynde, and let me thank you again? I know you saved me from what might have been a very serious accident.”
There was no trace of her usual coldness and hauteur in her voice and manner; and when these were absent, Lady Ada was a very charming person indeed. By a look she indicated to Trafford that she wished him to leave her and Esmeralda together.
He hesitated a moment; he remembered Lady Ada’s words, “I will help you,” and he wondered what she was going to say to Esmeralda—what she was going to do. The fact of these two women being together, as if they were friends, was repugnant to him. However, he did what every man must do under such circumstances—obey. With a grim look on his face, he went.
[CHAPTER XIV.]
Lady Ada and Esmeralda seated themselves on a lounge within view of the room, and Esmeralda looked openly at the exquisite woman beside her. Not only openly, but with frank admiration. Lady Ada bore the inspection with languid serenity. The girl was a savage, and her gaucheries must be endured, if she, Lady Ada, were to fulfill her promise, and “help” Trafford to obtain this two millions. She saw, without looking, that Esmeralda was perfectly dressed, and that her beauty was more marked in its freshness and unconventionality even than it had been when Ada had last seen her. This made her task all the harder, and her heart swelled with bitterness as she leaned back in graceful ease, looking as if she were interested only in the crowd about her. At last she spoke.
“I have been hearing a great deal about you, Miss Chetwynde,” she said.
“Yes?” said Esmeralda; and her coolness and absence of vanity made, strangely enough, Lady Ada’s dislike more vivid.