Slowly the idea seemed to fill his soul; and the vacant eye became fixed and brightened, the whole face lighted up, the hard hands clasped, and tears ran down the cheeks.
"Bless the Lord' it is—it is—it's all I wanted! They haven't forgot me. It warms my soul; it does my old heart good! Now I shall die content! Bless the Lord, O my soul!"
He began to draw his breath with long, deep aspirations; and his broad chest rose and fell heavily. The expression of his face was that of a conqueror.
"Who—who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" he said, in a voice that contended with mortal weakness; and with a smile he fell asleep.
Beyond the boundaries of the plantation George had noticed a dry, sandy knoll, shaded by a few trees; there they made a grave for poor Tom.
"Shall we take off the cloak, mas'r?" said the negroes, when the grave was ready.
"No, no; bury it with him. It's all I can give you now, poor Tom, and you shall have it."
They laid him in; and the men shovelled away silently. They banked it up, and laid green turf over it.
"You may go, boys," said George, slipping a quarter dollar into the hand of each. They lingered about, however.
"If young mas'r would please buy us," said one.