He had been sitting motionless so long that it was not likely the new-comer would be aware of his presence. As he leaned against the saddle, he wondered who this sharer of his solitude could be. The thud, thud came nearer, and presently, in the clear evening air, Trafford saw emerging from behind a clump of trees the horse and rider. He did not move a muscle—not even when he saw that the rider was a woman.
He did not move or cry out even when he saw that the woman was Esmeralda.
As a matter of fact, he did not believe his eyes. He had eaten nothing since the morning; his nerves were overstrained; the solitude had wrought its influence upon him. In simple truth, he thought that he was looking upon a vision of the imagination—a vision called up by the aching longing in his heart, by his nervous and overwrought condition.
Vision or reality, she was passing before him. He could see the exquisite outline of her profile, could catch the glimpse of the red-gold hair that hung in tangled confusion upon her shoulders.
She was dressed in the short skirt and blue blouse in which he had pictured her all the way along. She looked weary, and there was something of anxiety figured in the graceful, drooping form.
She was riding down the slope and away from him. In another moment or two she would have disappeared. With a sob he stretched out his arms toward her and breathed her name, but so softly that the still air carried it only a few yards.
Then suddenly the reality of her presence began to dawn upon him. He started upright, with his hand upon the saddle, ready to spring upon the horse and follow her; but as he did so he heard the thud of another horse coming from the direction in which she was going, and he stood stock-still and waited, his heart beating so fast that it seemed as if about to leap from his bosom.
The sound came nearer, and it was evident that Esmeralda, if indeed it was she, heard it also, for she pulled up her horse and raised her head in a listening and expectant attitude.
After a moment or two, which seemed an age to Trafford, a horseman came in sight, saw Esmeralda, and pulled up his animal almost upon its haunches. Trafford saw the two regard each other for a moment, then the horseman sprung from his saddle, and rushing forward, caught Esmeralda as she seemed about to fall, and Trafford heard her voice exclaim with joy, a world of joy and relief:
“Norman!”