And thus it was that she had spoken to Godfrey in these significant 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 the circumstances. But Phina, without perceiving it perhaps, was playing in "A minor," whereas it was written in "A major," and all the sentiment of the melody was transformed, and its plaintiveness chimed in well with her hidden feelings.