She was startled and bewildered. It was the first time she had ever been made love to, for though no doubt every young man in the camp worshiped her, and would have gladly made her his wife, not one of them had ever dared to tell her so, or to even hint by word or sign at the state of his feelings, for the simple reason that she was regarded by the whole camp as a kind of queen. Besides, it was well known that her guardian, Varley Howard, would not permit of any love-making, and that the man who should venture to propose marriage to Esmeralda would far more probably be the chief personage in a funeral than in a wedding.
So that Esmeralda had grown up as innocent of love and love-making—indeed, far more innocent—as nineteen out of twenty English girls.
Lord Norman’s avowal had come upon her so suddenly as to confuse her, and also to frighten her. She scarcely understood what he meant, certainly did not realize the full significance of his passionate protestations; and yet something of the meaning of the great mystery must have penetrated to her, for her heart beat rather faster than usual, and a faint color glowed in her cheeks.
What should she do? she asked herself. She liked Lord Norman; the mere fact of saving his life had given him an interest in her eyes. And then he was so handsome, and so gentle, and different to the rough men of the camp.
She fell asleep asking herself the question, and she woke the next morning with the question still unanswered. It was rather later than her usual hour when she emerged from the hut and stood, with her hand shading her eyes, looking down at the camp, which was already in the full swing of its daily work. She usually ran round before breakfast to see her horse, and to take it a slice of bread and a piece of sugar; but this morning she stood still at the door of the hut and looked dreamily about her, the horse forgotten for the first time.
“Ain’t you coming in to breakfast, Ralda?” said Mother Melinda’s voice, spoken through the fizzing of bacon in the frying-pan. “I thought you’s goin’ to sleep all day.”
Esmeralda went in, but her appetite, generally of the most satisfactory kind, appeared to have deserted her.
“Sakes alive!” exclaimed Mother Melinda, as Esmeralda leaned back in her chair and gazed absently at the plate which she usually cleared so promptly. “Air you ill, Ralda? I never see you turn away from your food afore. What’s the matter with you?”
“I don’t know,” said Esmeralda, with the faintest of smiles. “I’m not hungry, and it’s too hot to eat.”