Esmeralda looked at her plate and sighed also. The strain was beginning to tell upon her, too. Anything would be better than this daily, hourly companionship with a man for whom she dared not show her love.
“We will go if you like,” she said.
“It is for you to say,” he said.
“Then let us go,” she said. “You must be tired of this small place, and want to see the duke and Lilias and—other people.”
“I do not want to see any one,” he responded, grimly; “but you must be dull. We will go.”
They started two mornings afterward, and all the way down his attention to her was exemplary. As they drove from the station to Belfayre, they saw several small crowds on the road, and presently the carriage passed under a triumphal arch. Trafford looked up and saw “Welcome to the happy pair!” upon it, and he glanced at Esmeralda and then looked aside.
Esmeralda looked straight before her; she, too, had seen the inscription. When they drove up the terrace they were aware of a mob which had gathered to welcome them. The servants were ranged in double file, the duke, and Lilias, and Lord Selvaine were standing under the famous peristyle.
“It is evidently a gala day,” said Trafford, grimly. As he assisted her out of the carriage a hearty cheer rose from the crowd, the duke came hobbling down the steps, bare-headed and with one hand extended, and he took Esmeralda’s hand and drew her toward him and kissed her.
“Welcome home, my dear!” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “It is very good of you to come so soon.”
Esmeralda, with dry eyes, looked round her. Lilias came and kissed her; then some one came forward and took her hand.