ant
words.

"No! You are not near me at this moment--you are beyond the seas!"

Godfrey had risen. He had walked a few steps without noticing Phina,
and unconsciously his index finger touched one of the keys of the piano.
A loud C# of the octave below the staff, a note dismal enough, answered
for him.

Phina had understood him, and without more discussion was about to bring
matters to a crisis, when the door of the room opened.

William W. Kolderup appeared, seemingly a little preoccupied as usual.
Here was the merchant who had just finished one negotiation and was
about to begin another.

"Well," said he, "there is nothing more now than for us to fix the
date."

"The date?" answered Godfrey, with a start. "What date, if you please,
uncle?"

"The date of your wedding!" said William W. Kolderup. "Not the date of
mine, I suppose!"

"Perhaps that is more urgent?" said Phina.

"Hey?--what?" exclaimed the uncle--"what does that matter? We are only
talking of current affairs, are we not?"

"Godfather Will," answered the lady. "It is not of a wedding that we are
going to fix the date to-day, but of a departure."

"A departure!"

"Yes, the departure of Godfrey," continued Phina, "of Godfrey who,
before he gets married, wants to see a little of the world!"

"You want to go away--you?" said William W. Kolderup, stepping towards
the young man and raising his arms as if he were afraid that this
"rascal of a nephew" would escape him.

"Yes; I do, uncle," said Godfrey gallantly.

"And for how long?"

"For eighteen months, or two years, or more, if--"

"If--"

"If you will let me, and Phina will wait for me."

"Wait for you! An intended who intends until he gets away!" exclaimed
William W. Kolderup.

"You must let Godfrey go," pleaded Phina; "I have thought it carefully
over. I am young, but really Godfrey is younger. Travel will age him,
and I do not think it will change his taste! He wishes to travel, let
him travel! The need of repose will come to him afterwards, and he will
find me when he returns."

"What!" exclaimed William W. Kolderup, "you consent to give your bird
his liberty?"

"Yes, for the two years he asks."

"And you will wait for him?"

"Uncle Will, if I could not wait for him I could not love him!" and so
saying Phina returned to the piano, and whether she willed it or no,
her fingers softly played a portion of the then fashionable "Depart du
Fiance," which was very appropriate under