There had been great grief in the house when Eva died. Now there was not
only sorrow, but gloom and fear.

The kind master was dead, and the poor slaves asked themselves in
despair what would happen to them now.

They were not long left in doubt. One morning Mrs. St. Clare told them
that they were all to be sold. She was going back to her father's house
to live, and would not want them any more.

Poor Uncle Tom! The news was a dreadful blow to him. For a few days he
had been so happy in the thought of going home. Once more, after all
these years, he thought he would see his dear wife and little children.
Now, at one stroke, he had lost both his kind master and his hope of
freedom.

Instead of going home, he was to be sent farther away than ever from his
dear ones. He could not bear it. He tried to say, "Thy will be done",
but bitter tears almost choked the words.

He had one hope left. He would ask Miss Ophelia to speak to Mrs. St.
Clare for him.

'Mas'r St. Clare promised me my freedom, Miss Feely,' he said. 'He told
me that he had begun to take it out for me. And now, perhaps, if you
would be good enough to speak about it to missis, she would feel like
going on with it. Seeing it was Mas'r St. Clare's wish, she might.'

'I'll speak for you, Tom, and do my best,' said Miss Ophelia. 'I haven't