They pulled up at the door of the inn, and he got down. He stood, with his arms out, to help her alight, and, as he took her hands, he, half unconsciously, pressed them tightly. She blushed.
They found Lady Wyndover half asleep.
“What a time you’ve been,” she said, rubbing her eyes very delicately. “I declare, I was nearly dozing! Have you enjoyed yourself, Esmeralda?”
“Very much,” said Esmeralda, demurely. “It was a lovely view, and Lord Trafford let me drive.”
Lady Wyndover looked at her curiously. The girl’s face vibrated strangely; her eyes were bright; her usually ivory-white face had taken to itself a rose-like flush.
They started.
“Good heavens. Are you going to let Esmeralda drive?” asked Lady Wyndover.
“Don’t be alarmed,” said Trafford. “She can manage them quite as well as I can.” Lady Wyndover sighed, and wrapped herself in her furs.
On the way to town Trafford and Esmeralda said little. Both seemed lost in thought. Every now and then he glanced at her, and her beauty, so to speak, won upon him. If it had not been for the remembrance of Ada, with her strained face and anguished eyes, Esmeralda’s loveliness would have filled him with delight; but he could not forget the woman who loved him, even in the presence of this lovely girl whom he had asked to be his wife.