"Master," says Matthew, very much crestfallen, "promise me one thing."
"Ay," says I, "and you may depend on it I will keep my word."
He pressed my hand and nodded; then says he:
"Promise me that if I am taken, and you see a chance to pass your sword through me, you will put an end to my life."
"Nay," says I, shrinking before such a cruel possibility, "things will not come to that pass."
"Promise me, all the same," says he, very earnestly.
"You have my promise, friend," says I, though I would not have given it had I foreseen what he was about to ask.
"Good," says he. "I could lose another ell of my skin without much more than a day's howling; and I believe I could stand having my feet roasted, after the first scorching had taken my senses away; but I couldn't endure to be taken back a slave and lose my freedom."
I felt for the poor fellow with all my heart, sympathizing with his love of liberty, till he added, in a still more melancholy tone:
"I am not a family man."