“You—you love me?” he said.
A moment after the question was put, he felt full of remorse.
She raised her eyes and looked at him, and a new light burned in them—the soft fire of a young girl’s first passion.
“Yes—I love you!” she said, and she hid her eyes upon his breast.
He was carried out of himself, as most all men would have been, and he bent over her and kissed her. At his kiss he felt her tremble and quiver in his arms; then she raised her head, looked into his dark eyes with something of the wonder and trouble of a child who finds joy too much for it to understand, almost to bear, and put her soft warm lips to his.
When they entered the drawing-room, Trafford took her hand, and led her up to Lilias.
“Lilias,” he said, “Esmeralda has promised to be my wife.”
Lilias uttered a faint cry, and put her arm round Esmeralda and kissed her.
Lady Wyndover exclaimed with mingled joy and triumph; and Lord Selvaine took Esmeralda’s hand and kissed it.