“Oh, your reverence! is that good news?”

“Those who have the disposal of you are beginning to see that all punishment (except hanging) is for the welfare of the culprit, and must never be allowed to injure him.  Strutt left the prison for my house a fortnight ago, and you are to cross the water next week.”

“Oh, your reverence!  Heaven forgive me for feeling glad.”

“For being human, eh, my poor fellow?”

In the course of this conversation Mr. Eden frankly regretted that Robinson was going so soon.  “Four months more prison would have made you safer, and I would have kept you here till the last minute of your sentence for the good of your soul,” said he grimly; “but your body and nerves might have suffered,” added he tenderly; “we must do all for the best.”

A light burst on Robinson.  “Why, your reverence,” cried he, “is it for fear?  Why you don’t ever think that I shall turn rogue again after I get out of prison?”

“You are going among a thousand temptations.”

“What! do you really think all your kindness has been wasted on me?  Why, sir, if a thousand pounds lay there I would not stretch out my hand to take one that did not belong to me.  How ungrateful you must think me, and what a fool into the bargain after all my experience!”

“Ungrateful you are not, but you are naturally a fool—­a weak, flexible fool.  A man with a tenth of your gifts would lead you by the nose into temptation.  But I warn you if you fall now conscience will prick you as it never yet has; you will be miserable, and yet though miserable perhaps will never rise again, for remorse is not penitence.”

Robinson was so hurt at this want of confidence that he said nothing in reply, and then Mr. Eden felt sorry he had said so much, “for, after all,” thought he, “these are mere misgivings; by uttering them I only pain him.  I can’t make him share them.  Let me think what I can do.”

That very day he wrote to Susan Merton.  The letter contained the following:  “Thomas Robinson goes to Australia next week.  He will get a ticket-of-leave almost immediately on landing.  I am in great anxiety; he is full of good resolves, but his nature is unstable, yet I should not fear to trust him anywhere if I could but choose his associates.  In this difficulty I have thought of George Fielding.  You know I can read characters, and though you never summed George up to me, his sayings and doings reveal him to me.  He is a man in whom honesty is engrained.  Poor Robinson with such a companion would be as honest as the day, and a useful friend, for he is full of resources.  Then, dear friend, will you do a Christian act and come to our aid.  I want you to write a note to Mr. Fielding and let this poor fellow take it to him.  Armed with this my convert will not be shy of approaching the honest man, and the exile will not hate me for this trick—­will he?  I send you inclosed the poor clever fool’s life written by himself and printed by my girls.  Read it and tell me are we wrong in making every effort to save such a man?” etc.