“You have made us all very happy, my dear!” he said, and there was a ring of triumph in his voice also.
Then Trafford took Esmeralda to the duke. The old man’s reception of the news brought the tears to her eyes.
“God bless you, my dear!” he said; and as obeying an impulse, she knelt by his chair, and he laid his hand on her head. “God bless you!” he repeated.
The news spread. The whole place was in a state of mild excitement. Perhaps Lord Selvaine—who left for his beloved London immediately—carried the news to town, for the next morning the papers announced the engagement of the Marquis of Trafford to Miss Chetwynde, daughter of Mr. Gordon Chetwynde.
Lady Wyndover was almost beside herself with delight; and something in her overwhelming satisfaction jarred upon Esmeralda, who was very quiet in her new-found happiness.
“You take it all as a matter of course, my dear Esmeralda! You—you amaze me!” exclaimed her ladyship.
Esmeralda smiled absently.
“What ought I to do? Jump, or shout, or sing, or what?” she said.
Congratulations poured in. The palace was besieged by callers who came to wish the marquis and his betrothed every happiness. Not only congratulations but presents, some of them of startling value, such as were worthy the acceptance of a millionairess.
And presently Mr. Pinchook arrived.