—Rough Chamber.

Enter LEGREE, followed by SAMBO, L. H.

  Go and send Cassy to me.

  Yes, mas'r. [Exit R. U. E.]

  Curse the woman! she's got a temper worse than the devil; I shall do her an injury one of these days, if she isn't careful.

  S'help me, mas'r, she isn't dere.

  I suppose she's about the house somewhere?

  No, she isn't, mas'r; I's been all over de house and I can't find nothing of her nor Emmeline.

  Bolted, by the Lord! Call out the dogs! saddle my horse. Stop! are you sure they really have gone?

  Yes, mas'r; I's been in every room 'cept the haunted garret and dey wouldn't go dere.

  I have it! Now, Sambo, you jest go and walk that Tom up here, right away! [Exit SAMBO.] The old cuss is at the bottom of this yer whole matter; and I'll have it out of his infernal black hide, or I'll know the reason why! I hate him—I hate him! And isn't he mine? Can't I do what I like with him? Who's to hinder, I wonder?

  It's very likely, Mas'r.

  I—have—done—just—that—thing, Tom, unless you'll tell me what do you know about these yer gals?

  I han't got anything to tell, mas'r.

  Do you dare to tell me, you old black rascal, you don't know? Speak! Do you know anything?

  I know, mas'r; but I can't tell anything. I can die!

  Hark ye, Tom! ye think, 'cause I have let you off before, I don't mean what I say; but, this time, I have made up my mind, and counted the cost. You've always stood it out agin me; now, I'll conquer ye or kill ye! one or t'other. I'll count every drop of blood there is in you, and take 'em, one by one, 'till ye give up!

  Mas'r, if you was sick, or in trouble, or dying, and I could save you, I'd give you my heart's blood; and, if taking every drop of blood in this poor old body would save your precious soul, I'd give 'em freely. Do the worst you can, my troubles will be over soon; but if you don't repent yours won't never end.

  How do you like that?

  He's most gone, mas'r!

  [Rises feebly on his hands.] There an't no more you can do. I forgive you with all my soul. [Sinks back, and is carried off by SAMBO and QUIMBO.]

  I believe he's done for finally. Well, his mouth is shut up at last—that's one comfort.

  I understand that you bought in New Orleans a negro named Tom?

  Yes, I did buy such a fellow, and a devil of a bargain I had of it, too! I believe he's trying to die, but I don't know as he'll make it out.

  Where is he? Let me see him?

  Dere he is.

  How dare you speak? [Drives SAMBO and QUIMBO off. GEORGE exits.]

  Now's the time to nab him.

  How are you, Mr. Legree?

  What the devil brought you here?

  This little bit of paper. I arrest you for the murder of Mr. St. Clare. What do you say to that?

  This is my answer! [Makes a blow at MARKS, who dodges, and CUTE receives the blow—he cries out and runs off, MARKS fires at LEGREE, and follows CUTE.] I am hit!—the game's up! [Falls dead. QUIMBO and SAMBO return and carry him off laughing.]

  Oh! dear Uncle Tom! do wake—do speak once more! look up! Here's Master George—your own little Master George. Don't you know me?

  [Opening his eyes and speaking in a feeble tone.] Mas'r George! Bless de Lord! it's all I wanted! They hav'n't forgot me! It warms my soul; it does my old heart good! Now I shall die content!

  You shan't die! you mustn't die, nor think of it. I have come to buy you, and take you home.

  Oh, Mas'r George, you're too late. The Lord has bought me, and is going to take me home.

  Oh! don't die. It will kill me—it will break my heart to think what you have suffered, poor, poor fellow!

  Don't call me, poor fellow! I have been poor fellow; but that's all past and gone now. I'm right in the door, going into glory! Oh, Mas'r George! Heaven has come! I've got the victory, the Lord has given it to me! Glory be to His name!

[Solemn music. GEORGE covers UNCLE TOM with his cloak, and kneels over him. Clouds work on and conceal them, and then work off.]