'Well, well, perfectly well—looking out for you. Why are you not with her instead of with me? But to whom am I talking? To Hugh Tregarthen's ghost?'
Here his eyes went to Helga, and his face underwent a change.
'This young lady is a friend of yours?' and he gave her an odd sort of puzzling, inquisitive bow.
'If you will give me leave, Mr. Trembath. I have not yet had a chance. First let me introduce you to Miss Helga Nielsen, my betrothed—the young lady who before long will be Mrs. Hugh Tregarthen, so named by your friendly offices.'
He peered at me to see if I was joking, then stepped up to her, extended his hand, and courteously greeted her. Sweet the dear heart looked as she stood with her hand in his, smiling and blushing, her blue eyes filled with emotion, that darkened them to the very complexion of tears, and that made them the prettier for the contrast of their expression with her smile.
'My dear mother being well,' said I, 'the delay of a quarter of an hour can signify nothing. Let us seat ourselves that I may briefly tell you my story and explain how it happens that Helga and I are here instead of going straight to my home.'
He composed himself to listen, and I began. I gave him our adventures from the hour of my boarding the Anine, and I observed that as I talked he incessantly glanced at Helga with looks of growing respect, satisfaction, and pleasure.
'Now,' said I, when I had brought my narrative down to the time of our being picked up by the Mosquito, never suffering his repeated exclamations of amazement, his frequent starts and questions, to throw me off the straight course of my recital, 'my wish is to see my mother alone, and when I have had about an hour with her I want you to bring Helga to our home.'
'I quite understand,' he exclaimed: 'a complication of surprises would certainly be undesirable. You will prepare the way. I shall know how to congratulate her. I shall be able to speak from my heart,' said he, smiling at Helga.
'One question, Mr. Trembath. What of my poor lifeboat's crew?'