"He's named Fritz, Bertha,—call him Fritz."
"Don't you think he ought to be there by this time, Mr. Fritz?"
"Surely, Mistress! You will soon hear the cannon;—'tis not more than two miles, and he left the shore a good hour ago."
So she went up to the window.
"I suppose, Mistress, if he did not come back for six years, you would forget him,—wouldn't you?"
She was so lost in thought, that she didn't answer; so Doome took the answer upon herself. "You are very hard upon us women, Fritz,—Mr. Fritz. No, of course she would not forget him; no wife ever forgets her husband. Why, do you think I should forget you, Fritz,—Mr. Fritz,—if you were my husband, and if you went away for six years?"
"There are women and women, Doome, Fräulein Doome,"—
"Ah!—hark!"
At this moment the sound of a cannon-shot swept over the little cottage, and Daniel, running to the window, and putting his hand out to feel the breeze, declared that it was fired east-ward.
Now Bertha was at the window, and, as the sailor spoke, he looked into her face. She quickly put her arm round his neck in the German fashion, kissed him gratefully, and said, "You good, good man!"