They expected to see Grace a physical wreck after all the suffering she had gone through during her enforced imprisonment on the desert island. Some had gone so far as to whisper that the young heiress would never recover from the effects of the nervous shock. Such a terrible experience, they said, was more than sufficient to kill a strong woman. What effect, therefore, must it have had on the delicate Miss Harmon, whose health already gave cause for alarm before she went on that fatal voyage?
When the invited guests entered the reception-room and saw Grace beaming and smiling in the center of a circle of enthusiastic friends they could scarcely believe their eyes. To their utter astonishment she was precisely the opposite of what they had imagined. Instead of the frail, languid girl to whom they had said good-by when the Atlanta sailed from New York some six months before, she was the picture of good health, in as perfect physical condition as she had ever been in her life. Her face was tanned from long exposure to the sun, but the deeper color only heightened the rich effects of her beauty. It became her dark hair and her splendid eyes. She was a little stouter, but her fuller figure only set off to better advantage a new gown of clinging silver cloth, trimmed with rare lace. She looked radiant. Whispered murmurs of admiration were heard in all parts of the room. The women raved about her figure, her coloring and her hair, and the men fell over each other in their eagerness to attract her attention.
The reception-rooms were already crowded and new arrivals were coming in constantly. Somebody said that Prince Sergius of Eurasia was present, and there was a general craning of necks to get a glimpse of royalty. A woman whispered confidentially to a friend that his royal highness had been a constant caller since Miss Harmon's return and that there were good grounds for believing that they were engaged. In a few minutes the friend had spread the information all over the room that the engagement was official and would immediately be made public.
Supremely unconscious of the gossip of which she was the envied object, Grace stood in a corner of the room surrounded by Mrs. Wesley Stuart, Professor Hanson, Mrs. Phelps, and the Hon. Percy Fitzhugh. All fellow survivors of the wreck of the Atlanta, they made an interesting little group by themselves as they stood comparing notes and describing their adventures, while Mr. and Mrs. Harmon, scarcely able yet to believe the good news that their darling child had returned from the dead, went from one to another telling the wonderful story of her life on a desert island.
For the hundredth time Grace told and retold the story of the wreck—how she fell into the water from the overturned life-boat, and after swimming some distance, was fast becoming exhausted when suddenly one of the crew seized her and dragged her ashore. She told of her horrible adventure with the cobra and narrated in detail all the other incidents of her sojourn on the desert island up to the time that she was rescued by the Saucy Polly.
Mrs. Stuart explained how she and Professor Hanson, together with Mr. Fitzhugh got away in one of the life-boats. Mrs. Phelps and Count von Hatzfeldt were also saved, but poor Captain Summers was drowned, a martyr to duty. He refused to leave the bridge and went down with his ship, keeping the whistle blowing as the vessel sank out of sight beneath the waves. After rowing all night they were picked up the following day by a P. and O. steamer bound from Calcutta to Southampton. They naturally supposed Grace was among the drowned, and, on arriving in England, gave her name among the others to the correspondents, who cabled the sensational news to New York.
Mrs. Stuart threw her arms around Grace's neck and kissed her effusively.
"Oh, my poor, dear girl," she cried. "If you only knew what mental agonies I've suffered! I thought that I should never see you again. I blamed myself for having suggested the voyage. I held myself responsible. I did not dare look your poor father in the face. Your mental suffering must have been terrible, to say nothing of the dangers you were subjected to. How terrified you must have been to be all alone with that dreadful stoker! You should thank heaven he did you no violence. A man of that character is capable of anything—especially when alone with a defenceless woman."
Grace smiled faintly. A thoughtful expression came into her face. She made no answer, and Mrs. Stuart repeated her question:
"Weren't you afraid of him?"