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Uncle Tom's Cabin | Harriet Beecher Stowe | |
The Young Master |
Page 3 of 5 |
"Mas'r George!" said Tom, opening his eyes, and speaking in a feeble voice; "Mas'r George!" He looked bewildered. Slowly the idea seemed to fill his soul; and the vacant eye became fixed and brightened, the whole face lighted up, the hard hands clasped, and tears ran down the cheeks. "Bless the Lord! it is,--it is,--it's all I wanted! They haven't forgot me. It warms my soul; it does my heart good! Now I shall die content! Bless the Lord, on my soul!" "You shan't die! you _mustn't_ die, nor think of it! I've come to buy you, and take you home," said George, with impetuous vehemence. "O, Mas'r George, ye're too late. The Lord's bought me, and is going to take me home,--and I long to go. Heaven is better than Kintuck." "O, don't die! It'll kill me!--it'll break my heart to think what you've suffered,--and lying in this old shed, here! Poor, poor fellow!" "Don't call me poor fellow!" said Tom, solemnly, "I _have_ been poor fellow; but that's all past and gone, now. I'm right in the door, going into glory! O, Mas'r George! _Heaven has come!_ I've got the victory!--the Lord Jesus has given it to me! Glory be to His name!" George was awe-struck at the force, the vehemence, the power, with which these broken sentences were uttered. He sat gazing in silence. |
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Uncle Tom's Cabin Harriet Beecher Stowe |
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