“I congratulate you, Trafford,” said one of the guests, an old peer, and close friend and neighbor of the family. “It is scarcely necessary to wish, you happiness; you have secured that already.”
And Trafford smiled in the proper manner. He had received a letter from Lady Ada that evening. It was only a line or two.
“Write to me. Tell me whether you have asked her. I must know, though your answer will probably make me more wretched than I am already; and I am miserable enough, God knows!
Ada.”
[CHAPTER XVIII.]
The next day Trafford proposed a ride, and the mare Mr. Carter had chosen was brought round for Esmeralda. She was a splendid creature, and Esmeralda uttered an exclamation of delight at the sight of her. Trafford examined the saddle and bit—though it was quite unnecessary—and put Esmeralda up. Notwithstanding her height, she was as light as a feather, and laughed at his assistance.
“I can swing into the saddle by myself,” she said, simply. “I had to, for there was often no one to help me at Three Star, and when I was out riding I had to get off and on by myself. Oh, how lovely to be riding again!”
Trafford looked at her as he rode by her side. Her habit fitted her like a skin, she seemed as lithe and graceful as a withy wand, and sat her horse as if she and the animal were one. The mare was high-spirited and fresh, and full of mischief, but Esmeralda managed it with perfect ease and coolness, and Trafford, though he was ready to help her in an instant, saw that she did not need any assistance.
Esmeralda was so absorbed in the mare, that for awhile she seemed to have forgotten her companion, and Trafford did not break in upon her enjoyment with speech. Presently, as they rode across the park, they came to a rough, wooden fence.