“‘Law sakes alive, honey, you fadah done lef de place mos’ an houah ago,’ said my old black mammy.
“‘Did he leave any word for me?’ I asked.
“‘No, Mis’ Abbie, he jes went and nevah said nothin’.’
“My heart fell within me. I had intended to try again to explain to him my resolutions of the day before. Later in the day I learned that my father had gone on a ten days’ trip. Oh, how desolate I felt, with no one but the colored servants about. I am not surprised now that I was easily persuaded to leave my home, and it came about in this way: On the evening of the day of my father’s departure, a man came to our house on business; he was not an entire stranger for he had been there many times before although I had seen but little of him. He was a noted horseman from California and his business, like my lover’s, was to purchase horses. He was received into our house and all the generous hospitality of a Kentucky home was extended to him, and I, being the only member of the family at home, took upon myself the duty of entertaining our guest. He was a man of fifty and his gray hairs added much to his polite dignity. He was a much traveled man and his stories of adventure were so thrilling and interesting that he quickly had me wrapped in attention. The evening being warm, we sat on the broad gallery (better known as a veranda in the North) and after asking my permission, he lit a cigar and as he leisurely puffed and blew out clouds of smoke, he explained to me how he had been all over the world, and where he lived. In doing so he painted such pictures of the beauties of nature that I lost interest in the little world that I had always known. A new desire was created within me and then a new thought came to me. I wondered if this kind old gentleman had any daughters of his own, and if he had I wanted to hear about them; that desire was followed with the thought that it would be nice if my father were like him. I finally asked him if he had a daughter, but he seemed reticent as to her. At last with a struggle born of desperation I asked him if his daughter loved him and should come to him for advice would he give it.
“‘Bless your heart, yes, any father would do that,’ said he.
“I did not think he could hear me crying softly, and I made no reply for some moments, that my quivering voice might not be the talisman of betrayal. At last I ventured to say, ‘It would be so nice if such were really the case.’
“At that he said, ‘Come here, little girl, and tell me what the trouble is.’
“With that great desire to unload my heart, I could not resist. I needed but one invitation. I told him all. When I had finished he said, ‘I know your father very, very well, and do not think he will consent, but I will help you.’
“‘Oh! you will,’ I exclaimed, ‘I knew you would; you are so good, so kind;’ and I fell upon my knees in front of him.
“The plans were quickly made. I was to leave the house the next day, go to the railway station which was but a mile distant, buy a ticket and go to Indianapolis, wait until my benefactor could go to Cincinnati to secure the release of my lover, then they would join me and we would be married. It all carried nicely. After we were married the question arose as to how to keep out of reach of my father’s wrath. That was soon settled by our accepting an invitation to visit our champion in San Francisco. My father made no attempt to follow me so far as I know.