Lucy was gone. They, still suspecting nothing, fancied she had slipped out into the garden. Only when lunch was over and evening beginning were questions asked and searchers sent out.
A day passed and Lucy did not return. Mrs. Allison was wild with anxiety, Virginia was overwhelmed with grief. Mr. Allison was the only one fit to read the letter which arrived that evening from his daughter.
"I have married Washington Gibbs," it ran, "and I suppose none of you will forgive me. He came to you like an honest man to ask for me, and you turned him into a thief. You have treated him like all white people treat his race. Some day you will see clearer and forgive us."
Mrs. Allison came to her husband's side, When he crumpled the letter in his hand, she put her arms around him, but he put her away.
"It's from me it comes, from me—in one child's face, in the other's soul."
He strode across the long gallery where they were together, and looked along the faces of the painted ancestors, who were hanging upon the walls. There were many beautiful works
