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“Simon Legree； take care！” said the woman； with a sharp flash of her eye； a glance so wild and insane in its light as to be almost appalling。 “You’re afraid of me； Simon；” she said； deliberately； “and you’ve reason to be！ But be careful； for I’ve got the devil in me！”
The last words she whispered in a hissing tone； close to his ear。
“Get out！ I believe； to my soul； you have！” said Legree； pushing her from him； and looking uncomfortably at her。 “After all； Cassy；” he said； “why can’t you be friends with me； as you used to？”
“Used to！” said she； bitterly。 She stopped short；—a word of choking feelings； rising in her heart； kept her silent。
Cassy had always kept over Legree the kind of influence that a strong； impassioned woman can ever keep over the most brutal man； but； of late； she had grown more and more irritable and restless； under the hideous yoke of her servitude； and her irritability； at times； broke out into raving insanity； and this liability made her a sort of object of dread to Legree； who had that superstitious horror of insane persons which is common to coarse and uninstructed minds。 When Legree brought Emmeline to the house； all the smouldering embers of womanly feeling flashed up in the worn heart of Cassy； and she took part with the girl； and a fierce quarrel ensued between her and Legree。 Legree； in a fury； swore she should be put to field service； if she would not be peaceable。 Cassy； with proud scorn； declared she would go to the field。 And she worked there one day； as we have described； to show how perfectly she scorned the threat。
Legree was secretly uneasy； all day； for Cassy had an influence over him from which he could not free himself。 When she presented her basket at the scales； he had hoped for some concession； and addressed her in a sort of half conciliatory； half scornful tone； and she had answered with the bitterest contempt。
The outrageous treatment of poor Tom had roused her still more； and she had followed Legree to the house； with no particular intention； but to upbraid him for his brutality。
“I wish； Cassy；” said Legree； “you’d behave yourself decently。”
“You talk about behaving decently！ And what have you been doing？—you； who haven’t even sense enough to keep from spoiling one of your best hands； right in the most pressing season； just for your devilish temper！”
“I was a fool； it’s a fact； to let any such brangle come up；” said Legree； “but； when the boy set up his will； he had to be broke in。”
“I reckon you won’t break him in！”
“Won’t I？” said Legree； rising； passionately。 “I’d like to know if I won’t？ He’ll be the first nigger that ever came it round me！ I’ll break every bone in his body； but he shall give up！”
Just then the door opened； and Sambo entered。 He came forward； bowing； and holding out something in a paper。
“What’s that； you dog？” said Legree。
“It’s a witch thing； Mas’r！”
“A what？”
“Something that niggers gets from witches。 Keeps ’em from feelin’ when they ’s flogged。 He had it tied round his neck； with a black string。”
Legree； like most godless and cruel men； was superstitious。 He took the paper； and opened it uneasily。
There dropped out of it a silver dollar； and a long； shining curl of fair hair；—hair which； like a living thing； twined itself round Legree’s fingers。
“Damnation！” he screamed； in sudden passion； stamping on the floor； and pulling furiously at the hair； as if it burned him。 “Where did this come from？ Take it off！—burn it up！—burn it up！” he screamed； tearing it off； and throwing it into the charcoal。 “What did you bring it to me for？”
Sambo stood； with his heavy mouth wide open； and aghast with wonder； and Cassy； who was preparing to leave the apartment； stopped； and looked at him in perfect amazement。
“Don’t you bring me any more of your devilish things！” said he； shaking his fist at Sambo； who retreated hastily towards the door； and； picking up the silver dollar； he sent it smashing through the window…pane； out into the darkness。
Sambo was glad to make his escape。 When he was gone； Legree seemed a little ashamed of his fit of alarm。 He sat doggedly down in his chair； and began sullenly sipping his tumbler of punch。
Cassy prepared herself for going out； unobserved by him； and slipped away to minister to poor Tom； as we have already related。
And what was the matter with Legree？ and what was there in a simple curl of fair hair to appall that brutal man； familiar with every form of cruelty？ To answer this； we must carry the reader backward in his history。 Hard and reprobate as the godless man seemed now； there had been a time when he had been rocked on the bosom of a mother；—cradled with prayers and pious hymns；—his now seared brow bedewed with the waters of holy baptism。 In early childhood； a fair…haired woman had led him； at the sound of Sabbath bell； to worship and to pray。 Far in New England that mother had trained her only son； with long； unwearied love； and patient prayers。 Born of a hard…tempered sire； on whom that gentle woman had wasted a world of unvalued love； Legree had followed in the steps of his father。 Boisterous； unruly； and tyrannical； he despised all her counsel； and would none of her reproof； and； at an early age； broke from her； to seek his fortunes at sea。 He never came home but once； after； and then； his mother； with the yearning of a heart that must love something； and has nothing else to love； clung to him； and sought； with passionate prayers and entreaties； to win him from a life of sin； to his soul’s eternal good。
That was Legree’s day of grace； then good angels called him； then he was almost persuaded； and mercy held him by the hand。 His heart inly relented；—there was a conflict；—but sin got the victory； and he set all the force of his rough nature against the conviction of his conscience。 He drank and swore；—was wilder and more brutal than ever。 And； one night； when his mother； in the last agony of her despair； knelt at his feet； he spurned her from him；—threw her senseless on the floor； and； with brutal curses； fled to his ship。 The next Legree heard of his mother was； when； one night； as he was carousing among drunken companions； a letter was put into his hand。 He opened it； and a lock of long； curling hair fell from it； and twined about his fingers。 The letter told him his mother was dead； and that； dying； she blest and forgave him。
There is a dread； unhallowed necromancy of evil； that turns things sweetest and holiest to phantoms of horror and affright。 That pale； loving mother；—her dying prayers； her forgiving love；—wrought in that demoniac heart of sin only as a damning sentence； bringing with it a fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation。 Legree burned the hair； and burned the letter； and when he saw them hissing and crackling in the flame； inly shuddered as he thought of everlasting fires。 He tried to drink； and revel； and swear away the memory； but often； in the deep night； whose solemn stillness arraigns the bad soul in forced communion with herself； he had seen that pale mother rising by his bedside； and felt the soft twining of that hair around his fingers； till the cold sweat would roll down his face； and he would spring from his bed in horror。 Ye who have wondered to hear； in the same evangel； that God is love； and that God is a consuming fire； see ye not how； to the soul resolved in evil； perfect love is the most fearful torture； the seal and sentence of the direst despair？
“Blast it！” said Legree to himself； as he sipped his liquor； “where did he get that？ If it didn’t look just like—whoo！ I thought I’d forgot that。 Curse me； if I think there’s any such thing as forgetting anything； any how；—hang it！ I’m lonesome！ I mean to call Em。 She hates me—the monkey！ I don’t care；—I’ll make her come！”
Legree stepped out into a large entry； which went up stairs； by what had formerly been a superb winding staircase； but the passage…way was dirty and dreary； encumbered with boxes and unsightly litter。 The stairs； uncarpeted； seemed winding up； in the gloom； to nobody knew where！ The pale moonlight streamed through a shattered fanlight over the door； the air was unwholesome and chilly； like that of a vault。