"Can you think of anything? Have you not some idea where she is?" "She was very tired and low-spirited. She may have gone to see her father, and then--being so tired--have taken a glass of wine, and lain down to rest in her own old room. I can think of nothing else." "She would not be likely to make calls?" "Make calls so early! in a shopping costume! and without a carriage! She would not think of such a thing." "May she have gone to Yanna's?" "I should say not. She does not care for Yanna as she used to do." "Will you go home and see if she is in her old room resting? I have a strange, unhappy feeling about her." "I will go at once. I shall find her at home, no doubt." But though Mrs. Filmer spoke confidently, she was by no means sure of her affirmation. She went home with a trembling, sick heart, and found that Rose had not been there at all. For a moment or two she was unable to think or to act, and she was going blindly to Mr. Filmer's study when she met Harry. "Oh, my dear boy!" she cried, "you are just the one person needed. I am almost distracted, Harry. Rose went out this morning at ten o'clock; and she has not come home, and we are wretched about her." Harry took out his watch. "It is not quite three, mother. Rose has perhaps gone to see Yanna, or some of her acquaintances; or she may be at her dressmaker's, or----" "Harry, there is something wrong. You cannot reason the certainty out of my heart. I am sick with fear." "Dear mother, there is nothing wrong at all. Go and lie down, or talk to father, and I will bring you word that all is well in an hour. Sure." "Where are you going?" "I am going home. Yanna will know something." He took a cab at the nearest stand, and drove rapidly to his own house. Adriana started, and stood up quickly, as he entered. "What is the matter, Harry?" she cried. "Rose seems to have got herself out of the way. She left home at ten o'clock this morning, and has not returned. Mother is quite nervous and ill about her. Has she been here?" For a minute Adriana stood motionless, as one by one the thoughts flashed across her mind which led her to the truth; and when she spoke, it was in the voice of a woman who had pulled herself together with the tightest rein. "Harry," she answered, "while I put on my hat and cloak, have the carriage made ready. Do not lose a single moment." "Where are you going?" "To pier sixteen, East River." "What in heaven are you going there for?" "The Cuban steamer." "The Cuban steamer?" "Have you forgotten? Duval is a Cuban. I know now who told Rose of a land all sunshine and flowers--and misery and cruelty," she added passionately, as she ran to her room with a hurry that sent Harry to the stables with equal haste. When the carriage came to the door, Adriana was waiting. Harry was stepping, to her side, but she shook her head positively. "You must go for Antony," she said. "Bring him to the steamer. It is the only way."