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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 531 pages of information about Uncle Tom's Cabin.

“Lord bless you!—­I’m skeered to look at ye, Lizy!  Are ye tuck sick, or what’s come over ye?”

“I’m running away—­Uncle Tom and Aunt Chloe—­carrying off my child—­Master sold him!”

“Sold him?” echoed both, lifting up their hands in dismay.

“Yes, sold him!” said Eliza, firmly; “I crept into the closet by Mistress’ door tonight, and I heard Master tell Missis that he had sold my Harry, and you, Uncle Tom, both, to a trader; and that he was going off this morning on his horse, and that the man was to take possession today.”

Tom had stood, during this speech, with his hands raised, and his eyes dilated, like a man in a dream.  Slowly and gradually, as its meaning came over him, he collapsed, rather than seated himself, on his old chair, and sunk his head down upon his knees.

“The good Lord have pity on us!” said Aunt Chloe.  “O! it don’t seem as if it was true!  What has he done, that Mas’r should sell him?”

“He hasn’t done anything,—­it isn’t for that.  Master don’t want to sell, and Missis she’s always good.  I heard her plead and beg for us; but he told her ’t was no use; that he was in this man’s debt, and that this man had got the power over him; and that if he didn’t pay him off clear, it would end in his having to sell the place and all the people, and move off.  Yes, I heard him say there was no choice between selling these two and selling all, the man was driving him so hard.  Master said he was sorry; but oh, Missis—­you ought to have heard her talk!  If she an’t a Christian and an angel, there never was one.  I’m a wicked girl to leave her so; but, then, I can’t help it.  She said, herself, one soul was worth more than the world; and this boy has a soul, and if I let him be carried off, who knows what’ll become of it?  It must be right:  but, if it an’t right, the Lord forgive me, for I can’t help doing it!”

“Well, old man!” said Aunt Chloe, “why don’t you go, too?  Will you wait to be toted down river, where they kill niggers with hard work and starving?  I’d a heap rather die than go there, any day!  There’s time for ye,—­be off with Lizy,—­you’ve got a pass to come and go any time.  Come, bustle up, and I’ll get your things together.”

Tom slowly raised his head, and looked sorrowfully but quietly around, and said,

“No, no—­I an’t going.  Let Eliza go—­it’s her right!  I wouldn’t be the one to say no—­’tan’t in natur for her to stay; but you heard what she said!  If I must be sold, or all the people on the place, and everything go to rack, why, let me be sold.  I s’pose I can bar it as well as any on ’em,” he added, while something like a sob and a sigh shook his broad, rough chest convulsively.  “Mas’r always found me on the spot—­he always will.  I never have broke trust, nor used my pass no ways contrary to my word, and I never will.  It’s better for me alone to go, than to break up the place and sell all.  Mas’r an’t to blame, Chloe, and he’ll take care of you and the poor—­”

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