We hear often of the distress of the negro servants, on the loss of akind master; and with good reason, for no creature on God's earth isleft more utterly unprotected and desolate than the slave in thesecircumstances.

The child who has lost a father has still the protection of friends,and of the law; he is something, and can do something,--has acknowledgedrights and position; the slave has none. The law regards him, in everyrespect, as devoid of rights as a bale of merchandise. The only possibleacknowledgment of any of the longings and wants of a human and immortalcreature, which are given to him, comes to him through the sovereign andirresponsible will of his master; and when that master is stricken down,nothing remains.

The number of those men who know how to use wholly irresponsible powerhumanely and generously is small. Everybody knows this, and the slaveknows it best of all; so that he feels that there are ten chances ofhis finding an abusive and tyrannical master, to one of his findinga considerate and kind one. Therefore is it that the wail over a kindmaster is loud and long, as well it may be.

When St. Clare breathed his last, terror and consternation took holdof all his household. He had been stricken down so in a moment, in theflower and strength of his youth! Every room and gallery of the houseresounded with sobs and shrieks of despair.

Marie, whose nervous system had been enervated by a constant course ofself-indulgence, had nothing to support the terror of the shock, and,at the time her husband breathed his last, was passing from one faintingfit to another; and he to whom she had been joined in the mysterious tieof marriage passed from her forever, without the possibility of even aparting word.

Miss Ophelia, with characteristic strength and self-control, hadremained with her kinsman to the last,--all eye, all ear, all attention;doing everything of the little that could be done, and joining with herwhole soul in the tender and impassioned prayers which the poor slavehad poured forth for the soul of his dying master.

When they were arranging him for his last rest, they found upon hisbosom a small, plain miniature case, opening with a spring. It was theminiature of a noble and beautiful female face; and on the reverse,under a crystal, a lock of dark hair. They laid them back on thelifeless breast,--dust to dust,--poor mournful relics of early dreams,which once made that cold heart beat so warmly!

Tom's whole soul was filled with thoughts of eternity; and while heministered around the lifeless clay, he did not once think that thesudden stroke had left him in hopeless slavery. He felt at peace abouthis master; for in that hour, when he had poured forth his prayerinto the bosom of his Father, he had found an answer of quietnessand assurance springing up within himself. In the depths of his ownaffectionate nature, he felt able to perceive something of the fulnessof Divine love; for an old oracle hath thus written,--"He that dwellethin love dwelleth in God, and God in him." Tom hoped and trusted, and wasat peace.

But the funeral passed, with all its pageant of black crape, andprayers, and solemn faces; and back rolled the cool, muddy waves ofevery-day life; and up came the everlasting hard inquiry of "What is tobe done next?"

It rose to the mind of Marie, as, dressed in loose morning-robes, andsurrounded by anxious servants, she sat up in a great easy-chair, andinspected samples of crape and bombazine. It rose to Miss Ophelia, whobegan to turn her thoughts towards her northern home. It rose, in silentterrors, to the minds of the servants, who well knew the unfeeling,tyrannical character of the mistress in whose hands they were left. Allknew, very well, that the indulgences which had been accorded to themwere not from their mistress, but from their master; and that, now hewas gone, there would be no screen between them and every tyrannousinfliction which a temper soured by affliction might devise.

It was about a fortnight after the funeral, that Miss Ophelia, busiedone day in her apartment, heard a gentle tap at the door. She openedit, and there stood Rosa, the pretty young quadroon, whom we have beforeoften noticed, her hair in disorder, and her eyes swelled with crying.

"O, Miss Feeley," she said, falling on her knees, and catching the skirtof her dress, "_do, do go_ to Miss Marie for me! do plead for me! She'sgoin' to send me out to be whipped--look there!" And she handed to MissOphelia a paper.

It was an order, written in Marie's delicate Italian hand, to the masterof a whipping-establishment to give the bearer fifteen lashes.

"What have you been doing?" said Miss Ophelia.

"You know, Miss Feely, I've got such a bad temper; it's very bad of me.I was trying on Miss Marie's dress, and she slapped my face; and I spokeout before I thought, and was saucy; and she said that she'd bringme down, and have me know, once for all, that I wasn't going to be sotopping as I had been; and she wrote this, and says I shall carry it.I'd rather she'd kill me, right out."

Miss Ophelia stood considering, with the paper in her hand.

"You see, Miss Feely," said Rosa, "I don't mind the whipping so much, ifMiss Marie or you was to do it; but, to be sent to a _man!_ and such ahorrid man,--the shame of it, Miss Feely!"

Miss Ophelia well knew that it was the universal custom to send womenand young girls to whipping-houses, to the hands of the lowest ofmen,--men vile enough to make this their profession,--there to besubjected to brutal exposure and shameful correction. She had _known_ itbefore; but hitherto she had never realized it, till she saw the slenderform of Rosa almost convulsed with distress. All the honest blood ofwomanhood, the strong New England blood of liberty, flushed to hercheeks, and throbbed bitterly in her indignant heart; but, with habitualprudence and self-control, she mastered herself, and, crushing the paperfirmly in her hand, she merely said to Rosa,

"Sit down, child, while I go to your mistress."

"Shameful! monstrous! outrageous!" she said to herself, as she wascrossing the parlor.

She found Marie sitting up in her easy-chair, with Mammy standingby her, combing her hair; Jane sat on the ground before her, busy inchafing her feet.

"How do you find yourself, today?" said Miss Ophelia.

A deep sigh, and a closing of the eyes, was the only reply, for amoment; and then Marie answered, "O, I don't know, Cousin; I supposeI'm as well as I ever shall be!" and Marie wiped her eyes with a cambrichandkerchief, bordered with an inch deep of black.

"I came," said Miss Ophelia, with a short, dry cough, such as commonlyintroduces a difficult subject,--"I came to speak with you about poorRosa."

Marie's eyes were open wide enough now, and a flush rose to her sallowcheeks, as she answered, sharply,

"Well, what about her?"

"She is very sorry for her fault."

"She is, is she? She'll be sorrier, before I've done with her! I'veendured that child's impudence long enough; and now I'll bring herdown,--I'll make her lie in the dust!"

"But could not you punish her some other way,--some way that would beless shameful?"

"I mean to shame her; that's just what I want. She has all her lifepresumed on her delicacy, and her good looks, and her lady-like airs,till she forgets who she is;--and I'll give her one lesson that willbring her down, I fancy!"

"But, Cousin, consider that, if you destroy delicacy and a sense ofshame in a young girl, you deprave her very fast."

"Delicacy!" said Marie, with a scornful laugh,--"a fine word for suchas she! I'll teach her, with all her airs, that she's no better than theraggedest black wench that walks the streets! She'll take no more airswith me!"

"You will answer to God for such cruelty!" said Miss Ophelia, withenergy.

"Cruelty,--I'd like to know what the cruelty is! I wrote orders for onlyfifteen lashes, and told him to put them on lightly. I'm sure there's nocruelty there!"

"No cruelty!" said Miss Ophelia. "I'm sure any girl might rather bekilled outright!"

"It might seem so to anybody with your feeling; but all these creaturesget used to it; it's the only way they can be kept in order. Once letthem feel that they are to take any airs about delicacy, and all that,and they'll run all over you, just as my servants always have. I'vebegun now to bring them under; and I'll have them all to know thatI'll send one out to be whipped, as soon as another, if they don't mindthemselves!" said Marie, looking around her decidedly.

Jane hung her head and cowered at this, for she felt as if it wasparticularly directed to her. Miss Ophelia sat for a moment, as if shehad swallowed some explosive mixture, and were ready to burst. Then,recollecting the utter uselessness of contention with such a nature,she shut her lips resolutely, gathered herself up, and walked out of theroom.

It was hard to go back and tell Rosa that she could do nothing forher; and, shortly after, one of the man-servants came to say that hermistress had ordered him to take Rosa with him to the whipping-house,whither she was hurried, in spite of her tears and entreaties.

A few days after, Tom was standing musing by the balconies, when he wasjoined by Adolph, who, since the death of his master, had been entirelycrest-fallen and disconsolate. Adolph knew that he had always been anobject of dislike to Marie; but while his master lived he had paid butlittle attention to it. Now that he was gone, he had moved about indaily dread and trembling, not knowing what might befall him next. Mariehad held several consultations with her lawyer; after communicating withSt. Clare's brother, it was determined to sell the place, and all theservants, except her own personal property, and these she intended totake with her, and go back to her father's plantation.

"Do ye know, Tom, that we've all got to be sold?" said Adolph.

"How did you hear that?" said Tom.

"I hid myself behind the curtains when Missis was talking with thelawyer. In a few days we shall be sent off to auction, Tom."

"The Lord's will be done!" said Tom, folding his arms and sighingheavily.

"We'll never get another such a master," said Adolph, apprehensively;"but I'd rather be sold than take my chance under Missis."

Tom turned away; his heart was full. The hope of liberty, the thoughtof distant wife and children, rose up before his patient soul, as to themariner shipwrecked almost in port rises the vision of the church-spireand loving roofs of his native village, seen over the top of some blackwave only for one last farewell. He drew his arms tightly over hisbosom, and choked back the bitter tears, and tried to pray. The poor oldsoul had such a singular, unaccountable prejudice in favor of liberty,that it was a hard wrench for him; and the more he said, "Thy will bedone," the worse he felt.

He sought Miss Ophelia, who, ever since Eva's death, had treated himwith marked and respectful kindness.

"Miss Feely," he said, "Mas'r St. Clare promised me my freedom. He toldme that he had begun to take it out for me; and now, perhaps, if MissFeely would be good enough to speak bout it to Missis, she would feellike goin' on with it, was it as Mas'r St. Clare's wish."

"I'll speak for you, Tom, and do my best," said Miss Ophelia; "but, ifit depends on Mrs. St. Clare, I can't hope much for you;--nevertheless,I will try."

This incident occurred a few days after that of Rosa, while Miss Opheliawas busied in preparations to return north.

Seriously reflecting within herself, she considered that perhaps she hadshown too hasty a warmth of language in her former interview with Marie;and she resolved that she would now endeavor to moderate her zeal, andto be as conciliatory as possible. So the good soul gathered herselfup, and, taking her knitting, resolved to go into Marie's room, be asagreeable as possible, and negotiate Tom's case with all the diplomaticskill of which she was mistress.

She found Marie reclining at length upon a lounge, supporting herselfon one elbow by pillows, while Jane, who had been out shopping, wasdisplaying before her certain samples of thin black stuffs.

"That will do," said Marie, selecting one; "only I'm not sure about itsbeing properly mourning."

"Laws, Missis," said Jane, volubly, "Mrs. General Derbennon wore justthis very thing, after the General died, last summer; it makes uplovely!"

"What do you think?" said Marie to Miss Ophelia.

"It's a matter of custom, I suppose," said Miss Ophelia. "You can judgeabout it better than I."

"The fact is," said Marie, "that I haven't a dress in the world that Ican wear; and, as I am going to break up the establishment, and go off,next week, I must decide upon something."

"Are you going so soon?"

"Yes. St. Clare's brother has written, and he and the lawyer think thatthe servants and furniture had better be put up at auction, and theplace left with our lawyer."

"There's one thing I wanted to speak with you about," said Miss Ophelia."Augustine promised Tom his liberty, and began the legal forms necessaryto it. I hope you will use your influence to have it perfected."

"Indeed, I shall do no such thing!" said Marie, sharply. "Tom is one ofthe most valuable servants on the place,--it couldn't be afforded, anyway. Besides, what does he want of liberty? He's a great deal better offas he is."

"But he does desire it, very earnestly, and his master promised it,"said Miss Ophelia.

"I dare say he does want it," said Marie; "they all want it, justbecause they are a discontented set,--always wanting what they haven'tgot. Now, I'm principled against emancipating, in any case. Keep a negrounder the care of a master, and he does well enough, and is respectable;but set them free, and they get lazy, and won't work, and take todrinking, and go all down to be mean, worthless fellows, I've seen ittried, hundreds of times. It's no favor to set them free."

"But Tom is so steady, industrious, and pious."

"O, you needn't tell me! I've see a hundred like him. He'll do verywell, as long as he's taken care of,--that's all."

"But, then, consider," said Miss Ophelia, "when you set him up for sale,the chances of his getting a bad master."

"O, that's all humbug!" said Marie; "it isn't one time in a hundred thata good fellow gets a bad master; most masters are good, for all the talkthat is made. I've lived and grown up here, in the South, and Inever yet was acquainted with a master that didn't treat his servantswell,--quite as well as is worth while. I don't feel any fears on thathead."

"Well," said Miss Ophelia, energetically, "I know it was one of the lastwishes of your husband that Tom should have his liberty; it was one ofthe promises that he made to dear little Eva on her death-bed, and Ishould not think you would feel at liberty to disregard it."

Marie had her face covered with her handkerchief at this appeal, andbegan sobbing and using her smelling-bottle, with great vehemence.

"Everybody goes against me!" she said. "Everybody is so inconsiderate! Ishouldn't have expected that _you_ would bring up all these remembrancesof my troubles to me,--it's so inconsiderate! But nobody ever doesconsider,--my trials are so peculiar! It's so hard, that when I had onlyone daughter, she should have been taken!--and when I had a husband thatjust exactly suited me,--and I'm so hard to be suited!--he should betaken! And you seem to have so little feeling for me, and keep bringingit up to me so carelessly,--when you know how it overcomes me! I supposeyou mean well; but it is very inconsiderate,--very!" And Marie sobbed,and gasped for breath, and called Mammy to open the window, and to bringher the camphor-bottle, and to bathe her head, and unhook her dress.And, in the general confusion that ensued, Miss Ophelia made her escapeto her apartment.

She saw, at once, that it would do no good to say anything more; forMarie had an indefinite capacity for hysteric fits; and, after this,whenever her husband's or Eva's wishes with regard to the servants werealluded to, she always found it convenient to set one in operation.Miss Ophelia, therefore, did the next best thing she could for Tom,--shewrote a letter to Mrs. Shelby for him, stating his troubles, and urgingthem to send to his relief.

The next day, Tom and Adolph, and some half a dozen other servants,were marched down to a slave-warehouse, to await the convenience of thetrader, who was going to make up a lot for auction.