"How can I tell you? It was as dark as pitch; I only had a glimpse of her now and then by lightning."
"Yes; and that glimpse?"
"Showed me that she had heaps of hair. She did not scream or make a fuss, but kept quiet, for which I was really grateful."
"And did you have any talk?"
"Talk! My good sir, are you aware that we were out in that hurricane between seven and eight o'clock last night, and that it was by God's mercy we escaped with our lives?"
"I dare say you would like to improve the acquaintance now you have seen her—eh? Come, tell the truth."
Mr. Lisle made no reply; this question had hit the goal—he certainly did feel a curious and unusual interest in this girl. All the same, he made up his mind that this novel sensation would wear off within the next twenty-four hours, and whether or no, he did not mean to yield to it.
Mr. Quentin crossed to Ross alone, somewhat to his own surprise; and Helen, as she listened to his condolences, felt rather an odd little twinge of disappointment, for she had half expected that for once he would have been accompanied by his mysterious companion. To-day her smiles were not as responsive, nor her laughter as ready as usual. Her keen-witted visitor did not fail to notice this,—also a curious abstraction in her manner. She was partly thinking of Mr. Lisle (with an interest that surprised herself), and partly recalling to her mental eye that little pink figure seated on the log, with a face convulsed with passion, and dozens of love-letters scattered round her on the moss!
About a week later Colonel Denis met Mr. Lisle in the Bazaar and insisted on his accompanying him home, and being there and then presented to his daughter.
"She wants to thank you herself; only for you she believes that she would have lost her wits; only for you she would have had to pass a whole night on that coast alone."