University of Virginia Library

SCENE II

Gothic Chamber. Slow music. St. Clare discovered, seated on sofa. Tom at left.

ST. CLARE:

Oh! Tom, my boy, the whole world is as empty as an egg shell.

TOM:

I know it, mas'r, I know it. But oh! if mas'r could look up—up where our
dear Miss Eva is—

ST. CLARE:

Ah, Tom! I do look up; but the trouble is, I don't see anything when I
do. I wish I could. It seems to be given to children and poor, honest fellows like
you, to see what we cannot. How comes it?

TOM:

Thou hast hid from the wise and prudent, and revealed unto babes; even so,
Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight.

ST. CLARE:

Tom, I don't believe—I've got the habit of doubting—I want to
believe and I cannot.

TOM:

Dear mas'r, pray to the good Lord: “Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief.”

ST. CLARE:

Who knows anything about anything? Was all that beautiful love and
faith only one of the ever-shifting phases of human feeling, having nothing real
to rest on, passing away with the little breath? And is there no more Eva—
nothing?

TOM:

Oh! dear mas'r, there is. I know it; I'm sure of it. Do, do, dear mas'r, believe
it!

ST. CLARE:

How do you know there is, Tom? You never saw the Lord.

TOM:

Felt Him in my soul, mas'r—feel Him now! Oh, mas'r! when I was sold
away from my old woman and the children, I was jest a'most broken up—I felt
as if there warn't nothing left—and then the Lord stood by me, and He says,
“Fear not, Tom,” and He brings light and joy into a poor fellow's soul—makes
all peace; and I's so happy, and loves everybody, and feels willin' to be jest
where the Lord wants to put me. I know it couldn't come from me, 'cause I's a
poor, complaining creature—it comes from above, and I know He's willin' to do
for mas'r.

ST. CLARE:

(Grasping Tom's hand.)
Tom, you love me!

TOM:

I's willin' to lay down my life this blessed day for you.

ST. CLARE:

(Sadly.)
Poor, foolish fellow! I'm not worth the love of one good,
honest heart like yours.

TOM:

Oh, mas'r! there's more than me loves you—the blessed Saviour
loves you.

ST. CLARE:

How do you know that, Tom?

TOM:

The love of the Saviour passeth knowledge.

ST. CLARE:

(Turns away.)
Singular! that the story of a man who lived and
died eighteen hundred years ago can affect people so yet. But He was no man.
(Rises.)
No man ever has such long and living power. Oh! that I could believe
what my mother taught me, and pray as I did when I was a boy! But, Tom, all
this time I have forgotten why I sent for you. I'm going to make a freeman of
you so have your trunk packed, and get ready to set out for Kentucky.

TOM:

(Joyfully.)
Bless the Lord!

ST. CLARE:

Dryly.)
You haven't had such very bad times here, that you
need be in such a rapture, Tom.

TOM:

No, no, mas'r, 'tain't that; it's being a freeman—that's what I'm
joyin' for.

ST. CLARE:

Why, Tom, don't you think, for your own part, you've been
better off than to be free?

TOM:

No, indeed, Mas'r St. Clare—no, indeed!

ST. CLARE:

Why, Tom, you couldn't possibly have earned, by your work,
such clothes and such living as I have given you.

TOM:

I know all that, Mas'r St. Clare—mas'r's been too good; but I'd
rather have poor clothes, poor house, poor everything, and have 'em mine, than
have the best, if they belong to somebody else. I had so, mas'r; I think it's natur',
mas'r.

ST. CLARE:

I suppose so, Tom; and you'll be going off and leaving me in a
month or so—though why you shouldn't no mortal knows.

TOM:

Not while mas'r is in trouble. I'll stay with mas'r as long as he wants
me, so as I can be any use.

ST. CLARE:

(Sadly.)
Not while I'm in trouble, Tom? And when will my
trouble be over?

TOM:

When you are a believer.

ST. CLARE:

And you really mean to stay by me till that day comes? (Smiling
and laying his hand on Tom's shoulder.)
Ah, Tom! I won't keep you till that
day. Go home to your wife and children, and give my love to all.

TOM:

I's faith to think that day will come—the Lord has a work for mas'r.

ST. CLARE:

A work, hey? Well, now, Tom, give me your views on what sort
of a work it is—let's hear.

TOM:

Why, even a poor fellow like me has a work; and Mas'r St. Clare,
that has larnin', and riches, and friends, how much he might do for the Lord.

ST. CLARE:

Tom, you seem to think the Lord needs a great deal done for
him.

TOM:

We does for him when we does for his creatures.

ST. CLARE:

Good theology, Tom. Thank you, my boy; I like to hear you
talk. But go now, Tom, and leave me alone. (Exit Tom.)
That faithful fellow's
words have excited a train of thoughts that almost bear me, on the strong tide of
faith and feeling, to the gates of that heaven I so vividly conceive. They seem to
bring me nearer to Eva.

OPHELIA:

(Outside.)
What are you doing there, you limb of Satan? You've
been stealing something, I'll be bound.

(Ophelia drags in Topsy.)

TOPSY:

You go 'long, Miss Feely, 'tain't none o' your business.

ST. CLARE:

Heyday! what is all this commotion?

OPHELIA:

She's been stealing.

TOPSY:

(Sobbing.)
I hain't neither.

OPHELIA:

What have you got in your bosom?

TOPSY:

I've got my hand dar.

OPHELIA:

But what have you got in your hand?

TOPSY:

Nuffin'.

OPHELIA:

That's a fib, Topsy.

TOPSY:

Well, I 'spects it is.

OPHELIA:

Give it to me, whatever it is.

TOPSY:

It's mine—I hope I may die this bressed minute, if it don't belong
to me.

OPHELIA:

Topsy, I order you to give me that article; don't let me have to
ask you again. (Topsy reluctantly takes the foot of an old stocking from her
bosom and hands it to Ophelia.)
Sakes alive! what is all this? (Takes from it a
lock of hair, and a small book, with a bit of crape twisted around it.)

TOPSY:

Dat's a lock of ha'r dat Miss Eva give me—she cut if from her own
beau'ful head herself.

ST. CLARE:

(Takes book.)
Why did you wrap this (Pointing to crape.)
around
the book?

TOPSY:

'Cause—'cause—'cause 'twas Miss Eva's. Oh! don't take 'em
away, please! (Sits down on stage, and, putting her apron over her head, begins
to sob vehemently.)

OPHELIA:

Come, come, don't cry; you shall have them.

TOPSY:

(Jumps up joyfully and takes them.)
I wants to keep 'em, 'cause dey
makes me good; I ain't half so wicked as I used to was. (Runs off.)

ST. CLARE:

I really think you can make something of that girl. Any mind
that is capable of a real sorrow is capable of good. You must try and do
something with her.

OPHELIA:

The child has improved very much; I have great hopes of her.

ST. CLARE:

I believe I'll go down the street, a few moments, and hear the
news.

OPHELIA:

Shall I call Tom to attend you?

ST. CLARE:

No, I shall be back in an hour. (Exit.)

OPHELIA:

He's got an excellent heart, but then he's so dreadful shiftless!
(Exit.)