“Why, twenty girls might be going to be married, instead of one,” she said.
“Yes,” said Lady Wyndover. “But this one is going to marry the future Duke of Belfayre. My dear, this is going to be the wedding of the season!”
Madame Cerise was urged to the point of distraction2. She was given carte blanche in the matter of the bridal robe, which Lady Wyndover intended should surpass anything that had hitherto left the distinguished3 artist’s hand; other dresses were also ordered from Worth and costumes from Redfern. No expense was to be spared. As Lady Wyndover said: “Why should it be?”
More presents came pouring in. The duke sent a loving message and a set of pearls, with a reminder4 that the Belfayre diamonds would be hers on the day of her wedding. Lilias sent a simple ring, which had belonged to her mother, and Esmeralda valued it more highly than anything else she had received.
Trafford sent nothing. He shrunk from buying an expensive[157] present, which must be paid for, ultimately, with her money.
The days passed rapidly. Lady Wyndover, and all about her, were kept in a flutter of excitement. The society papers were full of the coming wedding, spreading themselves over descriptions of Belfayre and the other ducal places, and hinting at the magnificence of the bride’s presents and trousseau.
Of all concerned, Esmeralda seemed the calmest. She was perfectly5 happy, and would have been as happy if she had been going to marry Trafford in book muslin and an artificial wreath. She did not see very much of him during the three weeks, for, when a marquis is about to be married, he has a great deal of business to go through. There were lawyers to see, deeds to sign, arrangements to be made, all of which took up his time. But when they were together, he was as attentive6 and devoted7 as ever.
And, strange to say, he was not unhappy. He felt that he ought to be so; that he ought to ache with remorse8 every time he thought of Ada; but he did not do so. Indeed, he was conscious of a feeling of satisfaction when he was with Esmeralda. She was so beautiful and so sweet, and her love for him, which shone in her eyes whenever he approached, and sung in her voice whenever she spoke9 to him, touched him and affected10 him strangely.
On the night before the marriage, he went round to Grosvenor Square, and, of course, found everything in a state of confusion. Esmeralda was having a dress tried on—she declared that she had spent the whole of the three weeks trying on dresses—but she came to him presently, picking her way through the disorder11 of the drawing-room.
“Isn’t it a terrible fuss!” she said, with a smile, as she put up her lips for him to kiss.
“Dreadful!” he said, smiling, and looking round. “But it will soon be over. To-morrow you will be out of all this hullabaloo.”
Esmeralda laughed.
“Lady Wyndover says that we shall feel as if we were out of the world at Deepdale.” Deepdale was Lady Wyndover’s little place in Surrey.
“It can not be too quiet,” he said. “More presents?” He glanced at a table littered with costly12 offerings.
“Yes,” she said. “They come every hour, and from people I don’t ever seem to have heard of. We shall want a room to hold them all. Oh! but I want to show you something. Wait a moment.”
[158]
She ran from the room, and returned presently with a small wooden box, and took from it a little heart made of Australian gold.
“Look!” she said, and her eyes were moist. “Varley Howard—my guardian14, you know—sent it. It came to-day; all the boys sent it. It is made from gold found in the camp. See, there are three stars engraved15 on it, with ‘Love to Esmeralda, from all the Camp.’” Her eyes filled with tears, and she dashed them away with the back of her hand. “I must wear that to-morrow,” she said. “I must wear it always.”
Her emotion seemed touching17 and charming to him. Notwithstanding all the adulation she had received, she was still a simple, tender-hearted girl, this bride-elect of his. He could not help thinking that Ada Lancing, however she might have valued the gift, would never have dreamed of wearing it on her wedding-day.
“Yes, wear it always, Esmeralda,” he said. “You must prize it above everything else you have received.”
“Not quite,” she said, and she glanced shyly at the engagement-ring on her finger. “Lilias is here,” she said; “but of course she is trying a dress on. She will be down presently.”
“Never mind Lilias,” he said. “We do not seem to have been alone together, Esmeralda, for a long time.”
“It is ever so long,” she said.
He lingered some time, and, unconsciously, seemed loath18 to depart; and, when he left her, it was with a whispered “Until to-morrow,” which had a ring in it that was quite new to his voice. He walked home thinking of the wedding. Now and again the remembrance of Ada came to trouble him, but he thrust it away from him. He would think of nothing and no one that night but Esmeralda, the girl he was going to make his wife, the girl he was going to vow19 to love and cherish, the girl who was going to give him so much—her own sweet self, her wealth, and her love—in exchange for what?
As he opened the door of his sitting-room20, some one rose from the depths of an arm-chair. It was a young man. The lamp was shaded, and Trafford did not recognize him for a moment.
“Halloo, Traff! Here you are at last!” said a boyish voice.
Trafford uttered an exclamation21, and came forward with outstretched hand.
“Why, Norman!” he cried. “Is it really you? My dear fellow, I am glad to see you.”
The two men grasped and wrung22 hands, and Norman looked at his cousin with all the old admiration23 and devotion;[159] and Trafford’s grave face lighted up with pleased surprise and affection.
“I’ve astonished you, I expect,” said Norman. “I am about the last person you expected to see.”
“I am surprised,” said Trafford. “I had not the least idea you were in England, but thought you were out in the wilds somewhere. Sit down. Have you dined? Yes? Have something to drink.” His hand went to the bell, but he checked himself, and got some wine and some spirits from the cellarette, and filled a glass, as if he wanted to show by the small act how pleased he was to see Norman. “Now, tell me all about it,” he said. “When did you arrive?”
“Only a few hours ago,” said Norman. “You can see that, I should think,” he added, laughingly, as he looked down at his rough and well-worn traveling-suit. “I came back quite suddenly. I made up my mind not to come, you know, until I’d made my fortune.” He laughed shyly. “I’m afraid if I’d waited for that, I should have never seen you or old England again.”
“I’m sorry, dear old chap; but never mind,” said Trafford. “Have a cigar.”
Norman lighted up, and leaned back comfortably. “No, it isn’t easy to make a fortune, Traff, even in the new world. It’s about as difficult there as it is here, and everybody’s at it.”
“Never mind,” said Trafford again. “We shall all be very glad to see you back. And you’re looking very well, Norman. Quite tanned and hard set.”
“Oh! I’m all right,” said Norman; “roughing it suits me, and I’ve had a very good time of it, take it all together.” His face clouded for a moment, for he was thinking of Three Star and the girl he had met there.
“And where have you been?” asked Trafford.
“Oh! all over the place,” said Norman. “Australia, New Zealand, and so on.”
“And what have you been doing?”
“Oh! all sorts of things. A little of everything. I was head man at a livery-stable for a time—the man under me was the son of an Irish viscount. Sounds funny, doesn’t it?” He laughed. “Then I went to the gold diggings.”
“The gold diggings?” said Trafford, naturally thinking of Esmeralda. “Where?”
“Oh, round about Ballarat,” said Norman, knocking the ash off his cigar, and continuing: “But I didn’t have any luck. It was never my good fortune to find a nugget, though[160] the fellows in the next claim fished them out by the pailful. It’s all luck, and it was dead against me.” He suppressed a sigh, for he thought again of Three Star and Esmeralda.
“It will come, all in good time,” said Trafford. “You’ll make your fortune yet. But we sha’n’t let you go back to look for it yet awhile; you’ll have to stay quiet.”
“Well, I sha’n’t be sorry to,” said Norman. “Now, tell me the news. You’re looking very fit.”
Trafford said he was “all right,” and Norman asked after the duke and Lilias.
“And Ada Lancing,” he said; “how is she?”
Trafford’s face grew grave. “Very well,” he said.
“And as beautiful as ever, I suppose?” said Norman.
Trafford nodded. “Have some more whisky,” he said.
“I’m looking forward to seeing all the folk,” said Norman.
“Especially the girls,” said Trafford, with a smile. “They’ll be delighted to welcome their prime favorite back. I hope you’ve come back heart-whole, old man?”
Norman reddened under his tan, and Trafford, noticing his sudden confusion, looked at him questioningly. “Got any confession24 to make, my dear boy?” he said. “Do you feel inclined to sing, ‘The Girl I Left Behind Me’?”
The red still remained in Norman’s face. “I haven’t left a girl behind me in that sense,” he said. “I wish I had. I mean—I’m afraid I can’t tell you all about it, Traff; but I’ve been hard hit; so hard hit that the place feels sore.”
“I’m sorry,” said Trafford, quietly, and with ready sympathy. “What went wrong?”
Norman pulled at his cigar. “It was some one I met abroad,” he said. “She was the loveliest, sweetest— But you don’t want me to rave16 about her. I was madly in love. I’m madly in love still; but it wasn’t any use. She said, ‘No,’ and—and I came away and left her. I’ve been trying to forget her, but I haven’t succeeded very well. I suppose I shall some day—when I’m ninety, or thereabouts.”
“Poor old chap!” said Trafford. “You’ll tell me all about it some day.”
“Well, perhaps I may,” said Norman.
“And now what are your plans?” said Trafford.
“Well, I haven’t got any. I shall run down to see the mother to-morrow; she doesn’t know I’ve come back.”
“I’m almost glad of that,” said Trafford; “because you can’t go to-morrow. I want you, and can’t spare you, at any rate, until the evening.”
“All right,” said Norman. “What do you want me for?”
[161]
“I want you to assist at my wedding,” said Trafford.
Norman stared, then laughed. “That’s a good joke!” he said.
“A wedding is seldom a joke, to the bridegroom, at any rate,” said Trafford. “I’m quite in earnest. I wonder you haven’t heard of it!”
Norman stared still harder. “Good heavens!” he exclaimed. “Do you really mean it? Going to be married! Well! Well, of all the— Going to be married! and to-morrow! No; how should I hear of it? They don’t get the society papers where I’ve been. Who is she? Not Ada?”
Trafford’s brows knit, and he rose and took a turn up and down the room.
“No, no,” he said. “It is a Miss Chetwynde.”
“Chetwynde?” said Norman. “I don’t remember the name. Do I know her?”
“No,” said Trafford.
Norman leaned forward in his chair, with eager interest and excitement.
“I’m awfully25 glad, old fellow! Tell me all about her. What is she like? Is she young, pretty?”
“Yes; she is very young,” said Trafford, “and she is very beautiful. But you will see her to-morrow, and judge for yourself.”
Norman reached for Trafford’s hand, and wrung it. “I congratulate you, dear old Traff,” he said. “This is jolly news to get the moment I come back! Where did you meet her?”
“She is a ward13 of Lady Wyndover’s,” said Trafford.
“Of Lady Wyndover’s?” said Norman. “I don’t remember any ward or relation of hers of that name.”
“No; she has only recently come under her care.”
“Very young, and very beautiful,” said Norman; “and—and forgive me, dear old chap—is she rich?”
“She is very rich,” said Trafford, almost grimly. “There is nothing to forgive. You know how necessary the money is.”
“I know—I know,” said Norman, hastily and shyly. “And you’re going to be married to-morrow? I long to see her.”
“You shall go round with me to Lady Wyndover’s in the morning,” said Trafford. “I don’t know whether I’ve mentioned you to Miss Chetwynde, but it hasn’t been for want of thinking of you.”
“That’s all right,” said Norman.
[162]
“If I had known you had been coming back to-night, I would have asked you to be my best man,” said Trafford. “But I’ve got young Ffoulkes.”
“That’s all right,” said Norman again.
“You’ll stay here to-night,” said Trafford.
But Norman said that he wanted to get his hair cut, and buy a few things to smarten him up for so important an occasion, and he went off to his hotel, but not until Trafford had asked him whether he wanted any money. Norman said he had enough for the present, at any rate, though he would have accepted a loan as frankly26 and readily as it was offered if he had needed it.
Trafford slept little that night. Soon after breakfast Norman turned up, beautifully attired27 in a regulation frock coat, and a glistening28 top hat. He looked remarkably29 handsome, and full of sympathy with Trafford’s coming joy. If it had been his own marriage he could not have looked more happy and radiant.
“I don’t know whether it’s quite the right thing for us to go round to Miss Chetwynde’s, is it, Traff?” he said. “Not having been married many times, I am not up in the etiquette30 of the business, but I’ve an idea that the bridegroom shouldn’t show up at the house of his bride on the morning of the execution.”
Trafford smiled. “I don’t know anything about it for the same reason,” he said; “but I should like to see her before we go to the church. I’m anxious for her to know my best friend.”
“Thanks, old man,” said Norman, with the brusqueness with which men hide their emotions. “And look here, I found a little trifle, which I should like to give her, if she’ll accept it. It’s not much of a thing, but—” He pulled out a small locket, the acquisition of which had, as he would have put it, nearly brought him to a condition of “stone broke.”
“You shall give it to her yourself,” said Trafford. “We will go round there directly. Ffoulkes doesn’t turn up here for another couple of hours. What a swell31 you look! Any one would take you for the bridegroom. I sha’n’t put on my wedding garments till we come back.”
They walked round to Grosvenor Square, talking together like old friends and comrades. Norman had no end of adventures by flood and field to relate, but he said nothing of Three Star or Esmeralda Howard. For one thing, he did not want to thrust his disappointment upon Trafford’s joy.
[163]
The footman looked rather doubtful when Trafford inquired if he could see Miss Chetwynde.
“I’ll send up word to her, my lord,” he said, as he showed the two gentlemen into the drawing-room.
“Perhaps we ought not to have come, after all,” said Norman. Then they heard a light step on the stairs; but it was Ada Lancing, not Esmeralda. She was very pale, and she looked startled.
“Is anything the matter?” she asked, breathlessly, and as if she did not see Norman.
“No, no,” said Trafford, gravely. The sight of her was not very welcome to him. “Here is Norman; don’t you see him? He only came back last night, and I had a fancy to bring him round this morning.”
“Oh, yes—yes,” she said, recovering herself, and holding out her hand. “I thought something had happened, by your coming.”
“What should happen?” he said, simply.
“Nothing—nothing!” she responded, with a quick little breath. “How delightful32 of you to come back just at this moment, Norman. How well you’re looking!” She turned to Trafford. “I will tell her you are here,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t know whether she can come down; she is dressing33.”
She left them, and presently they heard another step descending34 the stairs. The door opened, and Esmeralda entered. She had her bridal dress on, but not the veil, and she had hastily caught up a white wrap and thrown it around her. She had not been startled at hearing that Trafford was there, and had come down with that soft light in her eyes which always shone in them when she came to meet him; but it fled as her eyes rested upon Norman, and in its place there rose a swift look of surprise and terror. Her face went white as the bridal dress, and with a cry she shrunk back.
Norman stood for a moment, as if turned to stone; then, with a cry of “Esmeralda!” he half sprung forward. Esmeralda put out her hand, as if to keep him back; and so they stood gazing at each other, troubled amazement in his eyes, confusion in hers. In that instant the folly35 of the silence respecting Norman Druce burst upon her with overwhelming force. An ordinary girl, used to the ways of the world, would not have been overwhelmed or very much confused, but, to Esmeralda’s simple nature, her secrecy36 assumed the dimensions of a crime.
[164]
Trafford looked from one to the other in amazement. “What is the matter?” he demanded.
“Yes; what is the matter?” repeated Ada’s voice, just behind Esmeralda. She had followed her down in time to witness the mutual37 recognition and its startling effect.
Esmeralda seemed incapable38 of speech; but Norman, calling all his strength and spirit to the effort, partially39 recovered himself, and, with a ghastly smile, said:
“It’s all right. It’s my fault. I startled Miss Howard—”
“Miss Howard?” said Ada, looking swiftly from him to Esmeralda, with cold, sharp eyes.
“Yes,” said Norman. “Miss—Miss Chetwynde, I mean, of course. She was Miss Howard when I—I met her.”
“I don’t understand,” said Trafford. He looked at Esmeralda, and waited. “Where did you meet?”
The color was coming back to Esmeralda’s face. She looked at Trafford appealingly; but before she could speak, Norman again came to her rescue.
“I met Miss Howard—I mean, Miss Chetwynde—at a place called Three Star Camp. I didn’t know she had changed her name.” He smiled, a little less ghastly. “I was as startled as if I had seen a ghost—not expecting to see her, don’t you see—and I expect Miss Chetwynde was just as startled.” He laughed awkwardly. “It’s a nervous time, and I hope Miss Chetwynde will forgive me for springing myself upon her like a Jack-in-the-box.”
He drew a long breath; he had done his best. Trafford accepted the explanation quite unreservedly. It was little wonder that Esmeralda should be nervous and easily upset that morning.
“You are not frightened now,” he said, with a smile, laying his hand gently and caressingly40 on her arm. She turned to him timidly, and yet eagerly.
“No, no,” she said. “I—I meant to tell you!”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Trafford, soothingly41. “Norman is my dearest, closest chum, and I brought him round—”
“Yes,” said Norman, hurriedly. “I ought not to have come. Please forgive me, Miss Chetwynde.”
Ada Lancing had been watching with sharp curiosity and suspicion. She broke in now with:
“Esmeralda, you must not stay. You really must not! There is so much to do still.”
“Yes, yes; we will go,” said Trafford. He kissed Esmeralda’s hand. She turned, as she left the room, and looked at[165] both men. There was the same appealing expression in her eyes as they rested upon Trafford.
“This is a strange coincidence,” he said, as the two men left the house.
“Yes; isn’t it?” assented42 Norman, with a laugh that sounded awful in his own ears. The houses seemed whirling round him, the sky pressing down upon his head. Trafford going to marry Esmeralda! Trafford going to marry Esmeralda! The sentence kept repeating itself in his brain in a maddening fashion.
“To think that you and she should be old friends!” said Trafford, with a laugh. There was not an atom of suspicion in his mind. “You called her Esmeralda, didn’t you?”
“Did I?” said poor Norman. “Yes; I think I did. It—it slipped out in the moment of surprise.” Trafford must never know that Esmeralda was the girl he had loved and could not forget. “You see, out in the wilds there, people soon get to calling each other by their Christian43 names. It’s—it’s not so formal, and all that, in a diggers’ camp.”
“No; I suppose not!” said Trafford. “I am very glad that you are friends already. By the way, old man, you forgot, in the excitement of your surprise, to give Esmeralda that little present.”
“Yes; so I did,” said Norman, with a smile that seemed to cost him a broken heart. “Stupid of me, wasn’t it? I’ll give it to her later on!”
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1
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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15
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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rave
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| vi.胡言乱语；热衷谈论；n.热情赞扬 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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confession
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awfully
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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glistening
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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etiquette
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swell
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delightful
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dressing
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descending
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folly
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secrecy
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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partially
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caressingly
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| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
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41
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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42
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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