She believed in his honesty of purpose, relying on his strong, impulsive character; and what he had decided on, she decided, too, as a good wife that was to be, would be best not only for them both but for all.
"Yes, to America, mutterchen," he replied to the widow's exclamation, speaking in a tender voice of entreaty.

"It is not so very far, you know, dear little mother, eh?
It will be only from Bremerhaven to Southampton in England,--you recollect going there with me for a trip, don't you, the year before last ?--and from Southampton to New York; and, there, I shall be in my new home in ten days' time at the outside! Why, it's nothing, a mere nothing of a voyage when you come to consider it properly." "Across the wide, wild ocean that has already robbed me of Eric, my youngest," went on poor Madame Dort, unheeding his words; "you, my firstborn--my only son now--I shall never see you more, I know!" and she gave way to a burst of tears.
"Say not so, darling mother," said Madaleine, throwing her arms round her and joining in her weeping with a sympathetic heart, feeling quite as great grief at the idea of parting with her lover.

"He will return for us both bye-and-bye.

He is only going to make that home for us in the Far West we've read about so often lately, which he cannot hope to establish here; and then, my mother,--for you are my mother too, now, are you not ?--he will come back for you and me, or we will go out and join him." "And I should like to know what will become of me, Fraulein Madaleine," interposed Lorischen indignantly.

"Am I to be left behind to be bothered all my life long by that little plague, Burgher Jans ?" "No, no, Lorischen," laughed Fritz; "a home across the sea in America would not be a home without you--or Mouser, either," he added.
"That's all right, then," said the old nurse affably; her digression serving to break the gravity of the conversation, and make Madame Dort take a better view of the matter.
"But, it's a terrible journey, though, a terrible journey--almost worse than parting with him to go to the war," said the widow sadly to herself.
"Ah, but you did not have Madaleine with you then," replied Fritz, turning a look of affection to the fair girl clinging to his mother.
"She will be a daughter to you, and comfort you in my absence, I know." "Aye, that I will," exclaimed Madaleine fondly, caressing her adopted parent and gazing at Fritz with the blue eyes full of love, although blinded with tears.