Mrs. Stuart sprang up from her chair. Collecting her wraps, she said:

"This debate is highly interesting and instructive, but if I stop to
listen to any more I shall never be dressed for dinner. Come, Grace,
don't forget we dine earlier to-night, because of the dance."

The professor assisted Grace to her feet.

"Thanks," she said. "I've enjoyed our talk so much. You've set me
thinking. It's so seldom one is encouraged to think of anything worth
while."

The ladies disappeared below, and the professor, tipping his cap, turned
on his heel and continued his walk. On the promenade-deck, where a dozen
sailors were busy preparing for the evening's coming festivities, he
met Captain Summers, who was enjoying a smoke before dinner.

"Well, captain, pretty warm for dancing, eh? Is it going to get any
cooler?"

The captain stopped short and squinted around at the sky. As he took in
the weather signs, an anxious look came into his face, and he replied
gruffly:

"We'll get something to-night, that's sure. The glass is falling
rapidly. But I wouldn't say anything about it to the ladies, if I were
you."

CHAPTER VII.

Enclosed with sail-cloth for almost its entire length, brilliantly
illuminated by hundreds of electric bulbs skilfully clustered in the
folds of the artistically draped bunting, with its crowds of dancers,
the women with their beautiful gowns, white shoulders and flashing
jewels, the ship's officers in full uniform, the men passengers in dress
coats--the promenade-deck presented an animated scene of gaiety, light,
and color, rendered all the more striking by the sharp contrast with the
inky darkness beyond the steamer's rail. The steward's orchestra,
screened behind a bank of decorative plants in a railed-off space at the
far end of the deck, was playing a dreamy Waldteufel waltz, and the gay,
laughing couples, their faces slightly flushed from champagne, whirling
gracefully to the strains of the languorous music, made up a picture
that appealed sensuously to ear and eye.

Grace was dancing with Count von Hatzfeld. In a decollete, clinging gown
of rose-colored chiffon, cut to set off to full advantage her
snow-white shoulders and perfect figure, never had she looked so
radiant. Around her slender throat was a string of priceless pearls, a
gift from her father, and her hair, dark and lustrous, was arranged in a
Grecian Psyche knot with gold bands. She held undisputed sway as belle
of the ball,