And so the bad man wept abundantly; to him old long-dried sources of tender feeling were now unlocked by Christian love and pity.
The good man shed a gentle tear or two of sympathy—of sorrow, too, to find so much goodness had been shut up, driven in and wellnigh quenched forever in the poor thief.
To both these holy drops were as the dew of Hermon on their souls.
O lacryrnarum fons tenero sacros
Ducentium ortus ex animo; quater
Felix in imo qui scatentem
Pectore te pia Nynmpha sensit.
Robinson was the first to break silence.
“Go home, sir, now; you have done your work, you have saved me. I feel at peace. I could sleep. You need not fear to leave me now.”
“I shall sit here until you are asleep, and then I will go. Do you hear this?” and he scratched the door with his key.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, when I do so and you do not tap in reply I shall know you are asleep.”
Robinson, whose heart was now so calmed, felt his eyes get heavier and heavier. After a while he spoke to Mr. Eden but received no reply.