t of that keen sense of justice which was always one
of her marked traits.

At the end of her school days in the North, Betty's viewpoint had so
completely changed that she went back to her Richmond home an
unwavering abolitionist, who was to give her all for a cause which
became more sacred to her than possessions or life itself.

Soon after her return to Virginia she was visited by the New England
friend in whose home she had been a guest, and to the Massachusetts
girl, fresh from the rugged hills and more severe life of New England,
Richmond was a fascinating spot, and the stately old mansion, which
John Van Lew had recently bought, was a revelation of classic beauty
which enchanted her.

The old mansion stood on Church Hill, the highest of Richmond's seven
hills. "Across the way was St. John's, in the shadow of whose walls
Elizabeth Van Lew grew from childhood. St. John's, which christened
her and confirmed her, and later barred its doors against her." Behind
the house at the foot of the hill stood "The Libby," which in years to
come was to be her special care.... But this is anticipating our
story. Betty Van Lew, full of the charm and enthusiasm of youth, had
just come home from school, and with her had come the Northern friend,
to whom the Southern city with its languorous beauty and warm
hospitality was a wonder and a delight.

The old mansion stood close to the street, and "from the pavement two
steep, curving flights of stone steps, banistered by curious old iron
railings, ascended to either end of the square, white-pillared portico
which formed the entrance to the stately Van Lew home with its
impressive hall and great high-ceilinged rooms. And, oh! the beauty of
the garden at its rear!"

Betty's friend reveled in its depths of tangled color and fragrance,
as arm in arm the girls wandered down broad, box-bordered walks, from
terrace to terrace by way of moss-grown stone stairs, deep sunk in the
grassy lawn, and now and again the New England girl would exclaim:

"Oh, Betty, I can't breathe, it is all so beautiful!"

And indeed it was. "There were fig-trees, persimmons, mock orange, and
shrubs ablaze with blossoms. The air was heavy with the sweetness of
the magnolias, loud with the mocking-birds in the thickets, and the
drone of insects in the hot, dry grass. And through the branches of
the trees on the lower terrace one could get frequent glimpses of the
James River, thickly studded with black rocks an