“What should happen?” he said, simply.
“Nothing—nothing!” she responded, with a quick little breath. “How delightful of you to come back just at this moment, Norman. How well you’re looking!” She turned to Trafford. “I will tell her you are here,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t know whether she can come down; she is dressing.”
She left them, and presently they heard another step descending the stairs. The door opened, and Esmeralda entered. She had her bridal dress on, but not the veil, and she had hastily caught up a white wrap and thrown it around her. She had not been startled at hearing that Trafford was there, and had come down with that soft light in her eyes which always shone in them when she came to meet him; but it fled as her eyes rested upon Norman, and in its place there rose a swift look of surprise and terror. Her face went white as the bridal dress, and with a cry she shrunk back.
Norman stood for a moment, as if turned to stone; then, with a cry of “Esmeralda!” he half sprung forward. Esmeralda put out her hand, as if to keep him back; and so they stood gazing at each other, troubled amazement in his eyes, confusion in hers. In that instant the folly of the silence respecting Norman Druce burst upon her with overwhelming force. An ordinary girl, used to the ways of the world, would not have been overwhelmed or very much confused, but, to Esmeralda’s simple nature, her secrecy assumed the dimensions of a crime.
Trafford looked from one to the other in amazement. “What is the matter?” he demanded.
“Yes; what is the matter?” repeated Ada’s voice, just behind Esmeralda. She had followed her down in time to witness the mutual recognition and its startling effect.
Esmeralda seemed incapable of speech; but Norman, calling all his strength and spirit to the effort, partially recovered himself, and, with a ghastly smile, said:
“It’s all right. It’s my fault. I startled Miss Howard—”
“Miss Howard?” said Ada, looking swiftly from him to Esmeralda, with cold, sharp eyes.