"No," she said huskily, "tell me now."

"Wait till we've had dinner."

"Mamma," cried Leonore, appealingly, "don't you see that--that--that I
suffer more by not knowing it? Tell me."

"Oh, Leonore," cried her mother, "don't look that way. I'll tell you;
but don't look that way!"

"What?"

Mrs. D'Alloi put her arms about Leonore. "The Anarchists have exploded a
bomb."

"Yes?" said Leonore.

"And it killed a great many of the soldiers."

"Not--?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, mamma," said Leonore. She unclasped her mother's arms, and
went towards the door.

"Leonore," cried her mother, "stay here with me, dear."

"I'd rather be alone," said Leonore, quietly. She went upstairs to her
room and sank down by an ottoman which stood in the middle of the floor.
She sat silent and motionless, for over an hour, looking straight before
her at nothing, as Peter had so often done. Is it harder to lose out of
life the man or woman whom one loves, or to see him or her happy in the
love of another. Is the hopelessness of the impossible less or greater
than the hopelessness of the unattainable?

Finally Leonore rose, and touched her bell. When her maid came she said,
"Get me my travelling dress." Ten minutes later she came into the
library, saying to Watts.

"Papa, I want you to take me to New York, by the first train."

"Are you crazy, my darling?" cried Watts. "With riots and Anarchists all
over the city."

"I must go to New York," said Leonore. "If you won't take me, I'll go
with madame."

"Not for a moment--" began Watts.

"Papa," cried Leonore, "don't you see it's killing me? I can't bear
it--" and Leonore stopped.

"Yes, Watts, we must," said Mrs. D'Alloi.

Two hours later they were all three rolling towards New York. It was a
five hours' ride, but Leonore sat the whole distance without speaking,
or showing any consciousness of her surroundings. For every turn of
those wheels seemed to fall into a rhythmic repetition of: "If I had
only said 'good-bye.'"

The train was late in arriving, and Watts tried to induce Leonore to go
to a hotel for the night. She only said "No. Take me to him," but it was
in a voice which Watts could not disregard. So after a few questions at
the terminal, which produced no satisfactory information, Watts told the
cabman to drive to the City Hall Park.

They did not reach it, however, for at the corner of Centre Street and
Chambers, there came a cry of "halt," and the cab had to stop.