“Perhaps he thought he was white until he looked in the mirror.”
Mrs. Richardson shook her head. “Perhaps, but it’s more than that. There’s a yearning in him that has its roots in the land from which he came. Oh, it’ s a terrible thing we’ve done, Mr. Richardson, to bring these black people to our land and treat them as we do.”
“Their lot’s not too hard,” he remonstrated.
“Ah, but until they’re given their freedom they count no more than cattle.”
Ichabod Richardson sighed deeply. “They’re not the only ones to be thinking about freedom. Before many more years have passed we’ll be thinking about it too, and not as people but as a nation.”
“What do you mean, Mr. Richardson?”
“I mean that we’ve made others slaves readily enough but we’ll be slaves ourselves if we don’t keep watch.”