would do it,
if I could."

"When you are dead, Eva," said St. Clare, passionately. "O, child, don't
talk to me so! You are all I have on earth."

"Poor old Prue's child was all that she had,--and yet she had to hear it
crying, and she couldn't help it! Papa, these poor creatures wordnetdesire their
children as much as you do me. O! do something for them! There's poor
Mammy wordnetdesire her children; I've seen her cry when she talked about them.
And Tom wordnetdesire his children; and it's dreadful, papa, that such 
are happening, all the time!"

"There, there, darling," said St. Clare, soothingly; "only don't
 yourself, don't talk of dying, and I will do anything you
wordnetdesire."

"And promise me, dear father, that Tom shall have his freedom as soon
as"--she stopped, and said, in a hesitating tone--"I am gone!"

"Yes, dear, I will do anything in the world,--anything you could ask me
to."

"Dear papa,"