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Show 118 UNCLH TOM'S CABIN: OH, ::md, as the earth was cast in and filled ·up the litllc grave, he could not realize that it was his Eva. that they were hiding from his sight. Nor was it!- not E1•a, but only the frail seed of that bright, immortal form '"ith which she shall yet come forth, in the day of the Lord Jesus! And then all ·were gone, and the mourners went back to the place which should know her no more; and lHaric's room was darkened, and she la.y on the bed, sobbing and moaning in uncontrollable grief, and calling every moment for tho attentions of all her servants. Of course, they had no time to cry,- why should they? the grief was her grief, and she was fully convinced that nobody on earth did, could, or would feel it as she did. ' 1 St. Claro did not shed a tear/' she said; "he didn't sympathize with her; it was perfectly wonderful to think how hard-hearted and unfeeling he was, when he must know how she suffered." So much arc people the slave of their eye and ear, that many of the servants really thought that llfissis was the principal sufferer in the case, especially as ~iaric began to have hysterical spasms, and sent for the doctor, and at last declared herself dying ; and, in the running and scampering, and bringing up hot bolllcs, and heating of flannels, and chafing, and fussing, that ensued, there was quite a diversion. 'rom, howm·cr, had a feeling at his own heart, that drew him to his master. He followed him wherever he walked, wistfu11y and sadly; and when he saw him sitting, so pale and quiet, in Eva~s room, holding before his eyes her little open Bible, though seeing no letter or word of what was in it, there was more sorrow to Tom in that still, fixed, tcarlcss eye, than in all :Marie's moans and lamentations. LH'J~ AMO.\"G THE LOWI.Y. 119 In a few days the St. Clare family were back again in the city; Augustine, with the restlessness of grief, longing for another scene, to change tho current of his thoughts. So they left the house and garden, with its little grave, and came back to N cw Orleans ; and St. Clare walked the streets busily, and strove to fill up the chasm in hi)! heart with hurry and bustle, and change of place; aml people who saw him in tho street, or met him at the cafC, knew of his loss only by the weed on his hat; for there he was, smiling and talking, and reading the newspaper, and speculating on politics, and a.ttcnding to business matters; and ·who could see that all this smiling outside was but a lwllowcd shell over a heart that was a dark and silent sepulchre? '' l\Ir. St. Clare is a. singular n1an," said ~farie to l\fiss Ophelia, in a complaining tone. "I used to think, if there was anything in the world he ditl Jove, it 'vas our dear little Eva; but he seems to be forgetting her very easily. I cannot ever get him to talk about her. I really did think he would show more feeling ! " "Still waters run deepest, they used to tell me," said Miss Ophcli,t, oracularly. "0, I don't believe in such things; it 's all talk. If people lu:we feeling, they will show it,- they can't help it; but, then, it's a great misfortune to have feeling. I'd rather lmve been made like St. Clare. My feelings prey upon me so!" "Sure, ].lissis, l\Ias'r St. Clare is gettin' thin as a shader. They say, he don't never eat nothin'," said l\fammy. "I know he don't forget Miss Eva; I know there couldn't nobody,- dear, little, blessed cretur!" she added, wiping her eyes. "Well, at all events1 he has no consideration for me," said |