The door flew open widely.
“Miss Grahame!” shouted the butler, with extended orbs and inflated nostrils.
Helen, full dressed, pale as marble, but stately as a queen, walked up the room to an unoccupied seat upon the right hand of her mother. She made a slight inclination of her head to those present, and then seated herself, with a self-possession, considering the events which had happened, quite startling.
“Miss Grahame!” was involuntarily repeated by every one present, and naturally all eyes rested upon her.
A strange and, as it were, a solemn stillness followed her appearance.
Her face was so white, so transparent and colourless; her eyes shone with such unearthly brilliancy; her hair lay so black and glossy upon her brow, contrasting powerfully with her snowy temples; she sat so erect, and gazed around her with so haughty and defiant a mien—that if not deemed a phantom by those who were strangers to her, they, at least, suspected that she had risen from a bed of sickness; and, in a fit of temporary derangement, had decked herself out in ball attire and presented herself, thus suddenly and unexpectedly, before them.
The eyes of the guests next sought the face of Mr. Grahame, to learn what effect this apparition had upon him. .
His face had become as white as that of his own child.
He could have screamed with horror when he saw her bend her full dark eye on his, and slowly and calmly seat herself before him.
A thousand thoughts passed through his already tortured mind. Whither had she been?—whence had she come?—and in that dread interval what had happened? How had she come back?—and for why did she now appear, and thus?