“Why your sermons, to be sure.”
“My sermons?”
“Yes, sir. Why, how could I hear them and my heart be as hard as it used? They would soften a stone.”
A faint streak of surprise and simple satisfaction crossed Mr. Eden's sallow face.
“But it isn't your sermons only—it is your life, as the saying is. I was no better than Hawes and Fry and the rest. I used to look on a prisoner as so much dirt. But when I saw a gentleman like you respect them, and say openly you loved them, I began to take a thought, and says I, Hallo! if his reverence respects them so, an ignorant brute like Jack Evans isn't to look down on them.”
“Ah! confess, too, that half hour in the jacket opened your eyes and so your heart.”
“It did, sir; it did. I was like a good many more that misuse prisoners. I didn't know how cruel I was.”
“You are on my side, then?”
“Yes, I am on your side, and I am come here mainly to speak my mind to you. Sir, it goes to my heart to see you lost and wasted in such a place as this.”
“You think I do no good here?”