its
slow movements and asthmatic trade, offered little opening for the
energy and ability with which he felt himself endowed; for, he might
live and die a clerk there, without the chance of ever rising to
anything else. He had frequently longed to go abroad and carve out a
fortune in some fresh sphere; but the thought of leaving his mother
alone prevented him from indulging in this day-dream, and he had
determined, much against the grain, to be satisfied with the humble lot
which appeared to be his appointed place in life.

Now, however, circumstances had changed. His place was filled up in the
old world; Providence itself forced him to seek an opening in the new.

His mind was made up at once.

"Little mother," said he one evening, when he had been home a month,
seeing every prospect of employment shut out from him--his last hope,
that of a situation in the house of a comrade's father at Coblentz, from
which he had expected great things, having failed--"I've determined to
emigrate to America--that is, if you do not offer any objection; for I
should not like to go without your consent, although I see there's no
chance for me here in Germany."

"What!" exclaimed Madame Dort, so startled that she let her knitting
drop. "Go to America, across the terrible sea?"

Fritz had already explained matters to Madaleine, and she, brave-hearted
girl that she was, concealing her own feelings at the separation between
them which her lover's resolve would necessitate, did not seek to urge
him against his will to abandon his project. She believed in his
honesty of purpose, relying on his strong, impulsive character; and what
he had decided on, she decided, too, as a good wife that was to be,
would be best not only for them both but for all.

"Yes, to America, mutterchen," he replied to the widow's exclamation,
speaking in a tender voice of entreaty. "It is not so very far, you
know, dear little mother, eh? It will be only from Bremerhaven to
Southampton in England,--you recollect going there with me for a trip,
don't you, the year before last?--and from Southampton to New York; and,
there, I shall be in my new home in ten days' time at the outside! Why,
it's nothing, a mere nothing of a voyage when you come to consider it
properly."

"Across the wide, wild ocean that has already robbed me of Eric, my
youngest," went on poor Madame Dort, unheeding his words; "you, my
firstborn--my only son now--I shall never see you more, I