Obeying a sign from Mrs.
Costello, she came forward, and watched while it was opened, and the many familiar objects taken out.

Underneath all, where she had always thought the desk remained empty, the pressure of a spring opened another compartment, in which lay a few papers and a likeness.
"You have often asked me to show you your father's likeness, Lucia," Mrs.Costello said with slow painful utterance.

"There it is.

Take it, and you will know my secret." Lucia put out her hand, but as it touched the portrait lying there face downwards, she involuntarily drew it back, and glanced at her mother.
"Must I see it?
Must I know ?" she whispered tremblingly.
"You must." She lifted the picture and looked, but the lines swam before her eyes.
As they steadied and came out clearly she saw a tall figure with black hair, dressed in a gaily striped shirt and blanket, and leaning on a spear--an Indian.

She threw the likeness from her with a cry, "Impossible! It is _not_ true," and with clasped hands tried to shut out the hateful sight.
Shudder after shudder swept over her, and still she cried in her heart, "I will not believe it," but she said no more aloud.