"Pomp, if you love me, grant me this one favor. Leave this wretch to his God. What satisfaction can there be in taking the life of so degraded and abject a creature?"
"There is satisfaction in justice," replied Pomp, quietly smiling.
"O, but the satisfaction there is in mercy is infinitely sweeter! Forgiveness is a holy thing, Pomp! It brings the blessing of Heaven with it, and it is more effective than vengeance. This man has a wife; he has children; think of them!"
These words, and many more to the same purpose, Penn poured forth with all the earnestness of his soul. He pleaded; he argued; he left no means untried to melt that adamantine will. In vain all. When he finished, Pomp took his hand in one of his, and laying the other kindly on his shoulder, said in his deepest, tenderest tones,—
"I have heard you because I love you. What you say is just. But another thing is just—that this man should die. Ask anything but this of me, and you will see how gladly I will grant all you desire."
"I have done."—Penn turned sadly away.—"It is as I feared. Deslow, I will not flatter you. There is no hope."
Then Deslow, regaining somewhat of his manhood, drew himself up, and prepared to meet his fate.
"Soon?" he asked, more firmly than he had yet spoken.
"Now," said Pomp. He lighted a lantern. "You must go with me. There are eyes here that would not look upon your death." He took his rifle. "Go before." And he conducted his victim into the recesses in the cave.
They came to the well, into the unfathomable mystery of which Carl had dropped the stone. There Pomp stopped.