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

“Yes, sold him!” said Eliza firmly.  “I crept into the closet by mistress’s door to-night, and I heard master tell missus that he had sold my Harry and you, Uncle Tom, both to a trader, and that the man was to take possession to-day.”

Slowly, as the meaning of this speech came over Tom, he collapsed on his old chair, and sunk his head on his knees.

“The good Lord have pity on us!” said Aunt Chloe.  “What has he done that mas’r should sell him?”

“He hasn’t done anything—­it isn’t for that.  I heard Master 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 should have heard her talk!  If she ain’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, 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?  There’s time for ye; be off with Lizzy, you’ve got a pass to come and go any time.”

Tom slowly raised his head, and sorrowfully said, “No, no:  I aint going.  Let Eliza go—­it’s her right.  ’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 to go to rack, why let me be sold.  Mas’r aint to blame, Chloe; and he’ll take care of you and the poor—.”  Here he turned to the rough trundle-bed full of little woolly heads and fairly broke down.

“And now,” said Eliza, “do try, if you can, to get a word to my husband.  He told me this afternoon he was going to run away.  Tell him why I went, and tell him, I’m going to try and find Canada.  Give my love to him, and tell him, if I never see him again—­tell him to be as good as he can, and try and meet me in the kingdom of heaven.”

A few last words and tears, a few simple adieus and blessings, and she glided noiselessly away.

II.—­Eliza’s Escape

It is impossible to conceive of a human being more wholly desolate and forlorn than Eliza as she left the only home she had ever known.  Her husband’s sufferings and danger, and the danger of her child, all blended in her mind, she trembled at every sound, and every quaking leaf quickened her steps.  She felt the weight of her boy as if it had been a feather, he was old enough to have walked by her side, but now she strained him to her bosom as she went rapidly forward; and every flutter of fear seemed to increase the supernatural strength that bore her on, while from her pale lips burst forth, in frequent ejaculations, “Lord help me.”

Still she went, leaving one familiar object after another, till reddening daylight found her many a long mile, upon the open highway, on the way to the village of T——­ upon the Ohio river, when she constrained herself to walk regularly and composedly, quickening the speed of her child, by rolling an apple before him, when the boy would run with all his might after it; this ruse often repeated carried them over many a half-mile.