“Vaer saa god!” exclaimed one of the sailors; and Frithiof had to spring down the gangway.
“To our next merry meeting,” said Roy, lifting his hat; and then there was a general waving of handkerchiefs from the kindly little crowd on the pier and from the parting guests, and, in all the babel and confusion, Frithiof was conscious only of Blanche’s clear “Auf wiedersehen!” and saw nothing but the sweet dark eyes, which to the very last dwelt on him.
“Well, that is over!” he said to Sigrid, pulling himself together, and stifling a sigh.
“Perhaps they will come here next year,” suggested Sigrid consolingly.
“Perhaps I shall go to England next autumn,” said Frithiof with a smile.
“So soon!” she exclaimed involuntarily.
He laughed, for the words were such a curious contradiction to the ones which lurked in his own mind.
“Oh! you call two months a short time!” he exclaimed; “and to me it seems an eternity. You will have to be very forbearing, for I warn you such a waiting time is very little to my taste.”
“Then why did you not speak now, before she went away?”
“You wisest of advisers!” he said, with a smile: “I did speak yesterday.”