268 UNCLE TOM’S CABIN; OR, could do to work out the freedom of his family. Then he thought of his noble young master, and, ever second to that, came the habitual prayer that he had always offered for him; and then his thoughts passed on to the beautiful Eva, whom he now thought of among the angels; and he thought till he almost fancied that that bright face and golden hair were looking upon him, out of the spray of the fountain. And, so musing, he fell asleep, and dreamed he saw her coming bounding towards him, just as she used to come, with a wreath of jessamine in her hair, her cheeks bright, and her eyes radiant with delight; but, as he looked, she seemed to rise from the ground; her cheeks wore a paler hue— her eyes had a deep, divine radiance, a golden halo seemed round her head—and she vanished from his sight; and Tom was awakened by a loud knocking, and the sound of many voices at the gate. He hastened to undo it ; and, with smothered voices and heavy tread, came several men, bringing a body, wrapped in a cloak, and lying on a shutter. The light of the lamp fell full on the face ; and Tom gave a wild cry of amazement and despair, that rang through all the galleries, as the men advanced with their burden to the open parlour door, where Miss Ophelia still sat knitting. St. Clare had turned into a café, to look over an evening paper. As he was reading, an affray arose between two gentlemen in the room, who were both partially intoxicated. St. Clare and one or two others made an effort to separate them, and St. Clare received a fatal stab in the side with a bowie-knife, which he was attempting to wrest from one of them. The house was full of cries and lamentations, shrieks “and screams ; servants frantically tearing their hair, throwing them- selves on the ground, or running distractedly about, lamenting. Tom and Miss Ophelia alone seemed to have any presence of mind; for Marie was in strong hysteric convulsions. At Miss Ophelia’s direction, one of the lounges in the parlour was hastily prepared, and the bleeding form laid upon it. St. Clare had fainted, through pain and loss of blood ; but as Miss Ophelia ap- plied restoratives, he revived, opened his eyes, looked fixedly on them, looked earnestly around the room, his eyes travelling wist- fully over every object, and finally they rested on his mother’s picture. . The physician now arrived, and made his examination. It was evident, from the expression of his face, that there was no hope ; but he applied himself to dressing the wound, and he and Miss Ophelia and Tom proceeded composedly with this work, amid the lamentations and sobs and cries of the affrighted servants, who had clustered about the doors and windows of the verandah. ‘“‘ Now,” said the physician, ‘‘ we must turn all these creatures out; all depends on his being kept quiet.” St. Clare opened his eyes, and looked fixedly on the distressed