I will destroy the
infernal bill of sale,--I will crush the hell-born paper that gives
life to deeds so bloody,--I will free them from the shame!" Thus, his
feelings excited to the uttermost, he rises from his seat,
approaches a cupboard, draws forth the small trunk we have before
described, unlocks it. "That fatal document is here, I put it here,
I will destroy it now; I will save them through its destruction.
There shall be no evidence of Clotilda's mother being a slave, oh
no!" he mutters rapidly, running his fingers over packages, papers,
and documents. Again he glances vacantly over the whole file,
examining paper after paper, carefully. He looks in vain. It is not
there; there is no document so fatal. Sharper men have taken better
care of it. "It is not here!" he whispers, his countenance becoming
pallid and death-like. "Not here!"-and they will swear to suit their
purposes. Oaths are only worth what they bring in the market, among
slave dealers. But, who can have taken it?" he continues, looking
wildly at Maxwell. Consternation is pictured on his countenance; he
feels there is intrigue at work, and that the want of that paper
will prove fatal to his resolution. A man in trouble always confides
in others, sometimes those whom he would scarce have trusted before.
He throws the paper aside, takes a seat at Maxwell's side, grasps
him by the hand, saying, "My friend! save them! save them! save
them! Use what stratagem you please; make it the experiment of your
life.
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