“Oh no, that cannot be!” I heard one of my other sisters reply. “Poor Jack was drowned long ago in the Naiad.”
“No, he was not,” I couldn’t help exclaiming; and without more ado I ran forward. My appearance created no small commotion among three or four young ladies who were seated in the room.
“Go away; how dare you venture in here?” exclaimed one or two of them.
“Will you not believe me?” I cried. “I am Jack, I assure you, and I hope soon to convince you of the fact.”
“It is Jack, I know it is!” exclaimed one of them, jumping up and coming forward. I knew her in an
instant to be Grace Goldie, though grown almost into a young woman. “It is Jack, I am sure it is,” she added, taking my hand and leading me forward. “Oh, how strange that you do not know him!”
My sisters now came about me, examining me with surprised looks. “How strange, Grace,” said one; “surely you must be mistaken?”
“No, I am sure I am not,” answered Grace, looking into my face, and putting back the hair from my forehead. “Are you not Jack?”
“Yes, I believe I am,” I answered, “though if you did not say so I should begin to doubt the fact, since Ann, and Mary, and Jane, do not seem to know me.”