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Uncle Tom's Cabin: Clare

The scene now changes to New Orleans, where in a beautiful home, in daily comradeship with his little mistress, Tom for a time was happy. St. Clare, his new master, was kindly and sympathetic, and while of an easy-going disposition, a dawning consciousness of the iniquity of slavery had come into his soul, a consciousness confirmed and accentuated by his daily contemplation of the nobility of heart of the faithful Tom. Two years of this unlooked-for happiness passed away, and once more Tom was face to face with misfortune. His flower-like little companion, growing daily more and more fragile, herself in spite of her years envisaging and depressed by the wickedness of the system of slavery which not only destroyed the souls of the oppressed but debased the character of the oppressors, finally died. Heartbroken over his loss, St. Clare found comfort only in the companionship of the equally heartbroken Tom, and one day in a sudden surge of gratitude he promised the old man his freedom, but the light of joy that shone in Tom's face when he heard the promise disconcerted him. "You haven't had such a bad time here that you should be glad to leave me," he said, sadly. "'Tain't leavin' ye, Marse St. Clare," said Tom, "it's bein' free that I'm a-joyin' in."