"Would you not have enjoyed gathering yourself that delicate rose that looks coquettish out of its simplicity?" he asked. "Thank you, no," Caroline interrupted. "I selected it from Madame's Paris bonnets, because it suited my complexion. If I had picked the rose in the sun, don't you see my complexion would no longer have suited it?" "I see you would enjoy life merely as a looker-on," said Arnold. "I would prefer to be an actor in it. When I have built my own house, and have digged my own potatoes, I shall know the meaning of house and potatoes. My wife, meanwhile, will be picking the roses for her hair." "She will be learning the meaning of potatoes in cooking them," replied Caroline. "I would, indeed, rather be above life than in it. I have just enjoyed hearing Lucia sing her last song, and seeing Edgardo kill himself. I should not care to commit either folly myself. I pity people that have no money; I think they would as gladly hurry out of their restraints as Brignoli hurries into his everyday suit, after killing himself nightly as love-sick tenor." "I would rather kill myself than think so," said Arnold. This talk, which had been interrupted by the course of the opera, was finished as they left their seats. At the door, Mr. Gresham offered to help Caroline to her carriage. Arnold walked away. "I would kill myself, if I could fancy that Laura thought so," he said, as he hurried home. There was a cart at the door of the house, men carrying furniture on the stairs. The doors of Mrs. Ashton's rooms were wide-open; packing-paper and straw were scattered about. "What is the matter?" he asked of his landlady. "A gentleman has taken Mrs. Ashton's rooms. This is his grand piano." "Mrs. Ashton! where is she?" asked Arnold. "She left this morning. I should have been glad of further notice, but fortunately"-- "Where have they gone?" interrupted Arnold. "Home. I don't know where. I can't keep the run." "It is in New England. Is there a directory of New England?" "A directory of New England! The names of its towns would make a large book!" Arnold went to his room. If he could only recall the name of the town near which Laura lived! But American names had no significance. In Germany each town had a history. The small places were famous because they were near larger ones. And even in the smallest some drop of blood had been shed that had given it a name, or had made its name noted. She had gone; and why had she gone without telling him? If he could only have heard Mrs. Ashton's talk the evening before with her husband, he need not have asked the question. "Do you know, dear, I think we had better leave New York directly,--tomorrow?" Mr. Ashton looked inquiries. "I don't like this intimacy with a foreigner. He really has been very devoted to Laura." "And, pray, what is the harm?" asked Mr. Ashton. "How can you ask? A foreigner, and we know nothing about him," answered Mrs. Ashton.