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 much hope, but I will try.’

So Miss Ophelia asked Mrs. St. Clare to set Tom free.

‘Indeed, I shall do no such thing,’ she replied.  ’Tom is worth more than any of the other slaves.  I couldn’t afford to lose so much money.  Besides, what does he want with his freedom?  He is a great deal better off as he is.’

‘But he does want it very much,’ replied Miss Ophelia.  ’And his master promised it to him.’

‘I dare say he does want it,’ replied Mrs. St. Clare.  ’They all want it.  Just because they are a discontented set, always wanting what they haven’t got.’

’But Tom is so good and gentle, and such a splendid worker.  If you sell him there is the chance of his getting a bad master.’

’Oh, I have no fear about that.  Most masters are good, in spite of all the talk people make about it,’ replied Mrs. St. Clare.

‘Well’, said Miss Ophelia at last, ’I know it was one of the last wishes of your husband that Tom should have his freedom.  He promised dear little Eva that he should have it.  I think you ought to do it.’

Then Mrs. St. Clare began to cry, and say every one was unkind to her, and Miss Ophelia saw it was no use saying anything more.  There was only one other thing she could do.  She wrote to Mrs. Shelby, telling her that poor Uncle Tom was going to be sold again.  She asked her to send money to buy him back, as soon as possible.

The next day, Uncle Tom and the other slaves belonging to Mr. St. Clare were sent to market to be sold.

As Uncle Tom stood in the market-place, waiting for some one to buy him, he looked anxiously round.  In the crowd of faces, he was trying to find one kind, handsome one, like Mr. St. Clare’s.  But there was none.