Esmeralda stood very pale, her lips apart, her breath coming quickly, but with a tender smile in her eyes which would have told them, even if they had doubted, that she was indeed Esmeralda.
Varley held up his hand, and almost instantly the din subsided.
“Boys,” he said, and his voice, musical and low, rang out so that every one could hear it and note the thrill of emotion which vibrated in its even tones, “Esmeralda’s come back! Quiet! Yes, she’s come back as she promised. England’s all very well; but when you’ve once lived in the free air of Three Star you kind of pine after it. And Esmeralda was almost born here. She’s come back, and she’s come to stay!”
The excitement and enthusiasm broke through all restraint at this announcement, and a roar of delight interrupted the speaker.
“Esmeralda!” went up from the hot throats.
Varley held up his hand again.
“Why she’s come back is no business of ours. We’re too glad to get her back—eh, boys?—to ask questions. If she’d been happy where she was, she’d have stayed there. But she wasn’t; and so she’s come back, and there’s an end of it, now and for the future.”
He took a glass of whisky from MacGrath’s hand and raised it aloft.
“Here’s health, long life, and happiness to Esmeralda of Three Star!”
Every man seized a glass, full or empty, and up they went as high as arm could extend them. A mighty roar rose from the packed crowd, while shouts of “Esmeralda—our Esmeralda!” rent the air. The mob seemed mad with pride and delight. Esmeralda had come back. It seemed too good to be true. Men laughed hysterically; Taffy and Bill danced with ecstasy. Men who had been mortal enemies a few minutes ago shook hands and laughed in each other’s faces. There were some whose eyes were wet. And through all the phases of expression there ran the current of an emotion which shook Three Star to its foundations.