The truth suddenly forced itself into Mrs. Gaston’s mind. Joe had gone--run away!--left his home and her! She grew suddenly weak, and sat down upon the bed till her strength should return to her. Joe gone? She could hardly believe it. How could her only boy leave her? How could she live without him? It occurred to her that he could not yet have gone far, and that he might be found and brought back before it was too late. She hurried from the room, flew down the stairs, and burst into the dining-room. “Go after him!” she exclaimed. “Send for him quick, before any harm comes to him! He’s gone--he’s run away, he’s--” “Who’s gone?” questioned Mr. Gaston, dazed by his wife’s words and manner. “What is the matter with everybody this morning?” “Joe! Joe’s gone! Follow him, Father, do, and bring him back! Take Charlie and follow him at once. He can’t be far! Take Charlie and--Oh! Charlie’s gone, too--they’ve gone, they’ve gone--” “Together!” said Mr. Gaston, sinking into a chair, and staring across the table at his wife, who was already seated and silent, dumb with the revelation of what appeared to be both mystery and crime. The hired man, after witnessing for a moment the agony apparent on the faces of both father and mother, opened the door softly and went out. Mrs. Gaston was the first to recover her voice. “Father,” she said, “do you think Joe took the horse?” “It looks very much like it,” he said. “They’re both gone.” “Yes; but they may not have gone together, after all. Or if they have gone together, perhaps Joe had some errand that we don’t know about, and will come back soon. Maybe he hasn’t gone at all, but is somewhere about the place now. Don’t let’s accuse him before we know!” “You are right; we’ll find the proof first.” Mr. Gaston went to the door and called the hired man. “Ralph,” he said, “don’t say anything for the present about this. We think some mistake has been made. But you may just make a quiet search for the horse around the farm and the neighborhood, and let me know if you find any trace of him. “Now,” he continued, turning back into the house, “we will search for evidence. Let us go first to Joe’s room and see what we can find there.” Together the father and mother mounted the stairs to the little east room, and looked about. On a stand in the corner Mrs. Gaston discovered something that, in her former hurried search, had escaped her notice. It was a note in Joe’s handwriting, written carefully in pencil, and it read as follows: DEAR MOTHER,--I am going away. Father is too hard on me. I will come back to see you when I am twenty-one if Father will let me. Forgive me for making you feel bad, and for being an ungrateful boy. Good-by, JOE. She read the note, handed it to her husband, and, sinking into a chair, burst into tears. When Mr. Gaston had read it he went to the open window and stood for many minutes, looking away, thoughtfully and sternly, to the distant hills.