"O, do not say thy day of usefulness is past, as long as thou canst speak such words!" said Penn, deeply moved.
"Thank God, I have faith! Even in this darkest hour of my life and of my country, I think I have more faith than ever. And I have love, too—love even for those violent men who have thrown us into this dungeon. They know not what they do. They act in ignorance and passion. They seek to destroy our dear old government; but they will only destroy what they are striving so madly to build up."
"Yes," said one of the prisoners, "the institution will be ruined by those very men! They are worse than the abolitionists themselves; and I hate 'em worse!"
"Hate their errors, Captain Grudd, hate their crimes, but hate no man," Mr. Villars softly replied.
"And you would have us submit to them?"
"Submit, when you can do no better. But even for their sakes, even for the love of them, my friend, resist their crimes when you can. No man will stand by and see a maniac murder his wife and children. It will be better for the poor maddened wretch himself to prevent him; don't you think so, Penn?"
"I do," said Penn, who knew that the argument was meant for himself, not for the rest. "I am thoroughly convinced. You were always right on that subject; and I was always wrong."
"I perceive," said the old man, "that you have had experience. It is not I that have convinced you; it is the logic of events."
One by one, the prisoners from above followed Penn down the dismal stairs. Only now and then a fainthearted Unionist consented to regain his liberty by taking the oath of allegiance, and "volunteering." At length the room above was cleared, and no more prisoners arrived. Penn, who had kept anxious watch for his friend Stackridge, was congratulating himself upon the perfect success of his stratagem, when the corporal who had brought him in came rushing down the stairs, accompanied by Lieutenant Ropes.
"Stackridge!" he called, searching among the prisoners; "is Medad Stackridge here?"