The preparations commenced at once, and they were so vast as to fill Esmeralda with amazement.

“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 distraction. She was given carte blanche in the matter of the bridal robe, which Lady Wyndover intended should surpass anything that had hitherto left the distinguished 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 reminder 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 perfectly 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 attentive and devoted as ever.

And, strange to say, he was not unhappy. He felt that he ought to be so; that he ought to ache with remorse 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 spoke to him, touched him and affected 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 disorder 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 costly 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 guardian, 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 engraved 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 touching 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 loath 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 vow 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-room, 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 exclamation, 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 wrung hands, and Norman looked at his cousin with all the old admiration 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 confession 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 rave 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. “W............