Trafford started to his feet, his face growing red, his lips compressed tightly. Norman looked him straight in the eyes.
“Trafford!” he exclaimed.
“You have overheard?” said Trafford in a constrained voice. “Good! I have but one word to add to you. You, too, will abide by her decision. If she should choose me, then you will go your way, and leave us in peace. You will refuse at your peril.”
Norman still looked at him steadily, and, to Varley’s surprise, did not wince or flinch.
“My God! how blind you have been!” he said. “How blind you are! Esmeralda choose between me and you? Why—why— Oh, I can’t get it out fast enough! I don’t know where to begin. Why, man, she has loved you all the time! She loves you still. There was never a woman in the world loved a man as Esmeralda loves you”—both men stared at him; he was hot with eagerness and indignation—“and always has loved you. Why, any one could see it—and they had only to look in her eyes when you came near her. The whole thing is a hideous mistake. Wait! You wait, and hear me, as I’ve heard you—and I’ve had hard work not to burst in or howl aloud. What you said is true enough as far as a certain point. I did love Esmeralda. I own it; I’m proud of it! I did ask her to be my wife, but she refused; and quite right, for there was a better man—you—waiting for her. I don’t know how you heard that I proposed to her.”
“Your letter to her was given to me,” said Trafford, almost inaudibly.
“Oh! When I came to England I was in love with her still. I own it; I’m proud of it! Every man ought to fall in love with Esmeralda. But when I found that she was to be your wife, I crushed it out. Do you think I’m a cur, Trafford? What have I ever done that you should think I would play the scoundrel—and to you, of all men in the world?” Trafford looked at him, and began to breathe hard. “I crushed it out. And then I went down to Belfayre; and—and there was Lilias; and—yes, Lilias crept into the vacant place in my heart, and taught me not to think of Esmeralda, excepting as a sister and the wife of my best friend. And she is the best sister, the sweetest and truest, that a man ever had! She soon found out that I loved Lilias, and set about helping me.” He paused for want of breath. Trafford’s hand gripped the edge of the table. “That night, in the conservatory, we were talking of Lilias, and Esmeralda was promising to plead for me. I was full of gratitude—carried away, if you like—and I kissed her, as you saw. She took the kiss merely for Lilias’s sake.”
Trafford rose, then sunk down again.
“The next morning your man brought a telegram. My mother was ill; I had to start at once. You say I left no word behind me—”
Trafford’s lips moved.