ARETHUSA. Ten months and a week to-day! Now for a new mark. Since the last, the sun has set and risen over the fields and the pleasant trees at home, and on Kit's lone ship and the empty sea. Perhaps it blew, perhaps rained; (_at the chart_) perhaps he was far up here to the nor'ard, where the icebergs sail; perhaps at anchor among these wild islands of the snakes and buccaneers. O, you big chart, if I could see him sailing on you! North and South Atlantic; such a weary sight of water and no land; never an island for the poor lad to land upon. But still God's there. (_She takes down the telescope to dust it._) Father's spy-glass again; and my poor Kit perhaps with such another, sweeping the great deep! SCENE II _ARETHUSA; to her, KIT, C. He enters on tiptoe, and she does not see or hear him._ ARETHUSA (_dusting telescope_). At sea they have less dust at least: that's so much comfort. KIT. Sweetheart, ahoy! ARETHUSA. Kit! KIT. Arethusa! ARETHUSA. My Kit! Home again--O my love!--home again to me! KIT. As straight as wind and tide could carry me! ARETHUSA. O Kit, my dearest. O Kit--O! O! KIT. Hey? Steady, lass: steady, I say. For goodness' sake, ease it off. ARETHUSA. I will, Kit--I will. But you came so sudden. KIT. I thought ten months of it about preparation enough. ARETHUSA. Ten months and a week; you haven't counted the days as I have. Another day gone, and one day nearer to Kit: that has been my almanac. How brown you are! how handsome! KIT. A pity you can't see yourself! Well, no, I'll never be handsome: brown I may be, never handsome. But I'm better than that, if the proverb's true; for I'm ten hundred thousand fathoms deep in love. I bring you a faithful sailor. What! you don't think much of that for a curiosity? Well, that's so: you're right; the rarity is in the girl that's worth it ten times over. Faithful? I couldn't help it if I tried! No, sweetheart, and I fear nothing: I don't know what fear is, but just of losing you. (_Starting._) Lord, that's not the Admiral? ARETHUSA. Aha, Mr. Dreadnought! you see you fear my father. KIT. That I do. But, thank goodness, it's nobody. Kiss me: no, I won't kiss you: kiss _me_. I'll give you a present for that. See! ARETHUSA. A wedding-ring! KIT. My mother's. Will you take it? ARETHUSA. Yes, will I--and give myself for it. KIT. Ah, if we could only count upon your father! He's a man every inch of him; but he can't endure Kit French.