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?
She was his own child--there could be no doubt about that; but oh! so changed, so dreadfully changed--a spectral shadow only of her former self was she now!
What was he to do? What could he do? He dare not, for very pride sake, hazard a scene. But how receive her? what could he say? She anticipated him.
In a firm, clear voice, she exclaimed, addressing herself to him--
“I was unaware that you were honoured with the presence of guests, sir, or I should have not joined the circle until you assembled in the drawing-room. I hope they and you will accept my apologies for presenting myself here, either too soon or too late.”
“For coming here at all,” thought Grahame, with an inward groan.
Mrs. Grahame seemed to contract--to shrivel into a thin, old woman--while Margaret let her eyes close, and her brow fall. She sealed her lips, too, and sat like a granite figure, and became almost of the same hue.
Malcolm looked at his sister, and drank another glass of port.
“It appears to me,” he thought, “that by-and-bye there will be a serious disturbance in this house.”
Of all, Evangeline alone recognised her sister as her sister. Retiring by nature, she may have been, but she was bold in this. She rose from her seat, and passing with more display than she was in the habit of making behind those who sat between her and Helen, she heeded not her father’s stern look or her mother’s stony aspect, but she caught her sister’s hands, and pressed them. She bent over, and kissed her cold, cold forehead.
