They reached Grosvenor Square, and he took his leave. Once more he pressed Esmeralda’s hand, and once again the color rose to her face. She stood at the door, and watched him drive away, then she followed Lady Wyndover to her boudoir.
“Oh! dear, how glad I am to be home!” said Lady Wyndover. “Put more coals on, Barker, and bring me my fur wrap. How any one can find any pleasure in driving in an open carriage amazes me! Come near the fire and thaw, dear.”
“I am not cold,” said Esmeralda. The blood was dancing through every vein. She stood in the center of the room, bold upright.
“Lady Wyndover, I want to tell you something. Lord Trafford has asked me to marry him,” she said.
Lady Wyndover uttered a cry of delight, and sprung to her feet.
“Really! My dear child, I am delighted!”
Esmeralda knit her brows.
“Why?”
Lady Wyndover sunk into her chair and laughed again.
“Why? My dear Esmeralda, how can you ask? The Marquis of Trafford has actually proposed to you! Oh! I am delighted!”