He thanked them heartily, assured them that the palace would be open, and went off to consult Lady Elton about whether Grace could be present at a reception in the early evening.
Grace, who had been resting all the morning, sent back word that nothing would please her better than to see all who cared to come. So they carried her down into the hall, and while the daylight was fading, and the lovely golden hues of evening were winning their way through the marble lattices, she lay in the midst of her friends, receiving the visits of Indians of every degree, and thanking them, in gracious, gentle words, for the welcome they had given her.
None came without his gift—small gifts of fruit and flowers and sweetmeats, and larger gifts of jewels and rich caskets, and costly robes and embroidered stuffs and perfumes; and as she lay amongst them, her pale thin fingers straying from one to another, she looked, Trixy said laughingly, like a fairy-princess in a rainbow bower.
This day was a sample of several others. Those who could not be admitted the first day came the second and the third. Everyone was anxious to see for himself the gracious, beautiful lady, of whom such wonderful tales were told. Everyone desired to give some token, however small, of his reverence and affection for Byrajee Pirtha Raj, their ruler, who had returned to them in the person of his son. Grace received presents enough those three days to constitute in themselves a rich dower.
There was one, however, whom she expected daily, but who did not appear—Vishnugupta, the priest. At last she made inquiries about him. 'Is it because so many people are coming and going that Vishnugupta keeps away?' she said to Tom one day.
'I expect so; but I will ask about him,' he answered.
There were several Indians in the hall. He turned to one, who stood close by, and asked him if the priest had been seen lately about the city.
The man bowed his head low and covered his face.
'The holy man has gone,' he said.
'To his hermitage in the hills, I suppose?' said the rajah.