He seldom spoke, and although there was a mild resignation in his looks and bearing, his eyes had a light of honest independence about them, and his voice a firmness of tone which told of a guiltless soul suffering from some chance misfortune over which, in a moment of temptation, it had not sufficient control. The prison keepers and guards were unanimous in pronouncing his conduct “excellent,” and so stated it upon their several day-books and weekly reports. The chaplain, indeed, with whom Charley had as frequent interviews as could be allowed, was loud in his praises of the gentlemanly prisoner, and when Charles had confessed to him, in conversation, the whole story of his misdemeanour, he shook him by the hand, and said, “I fully understand the whole case; it was a pity.” “And yet,” he added, “although paying the penalty of what might not be considered actually a theft, since you had fully determined to deliver the packet, this, your present experience, may be of incalculable good to you for your whole life.” Good old Dame Worthington was a frequent visitor to see “her dear boy,” and was always provided with a basket of considerable size, containing a plentiful supply of whatever the authorities would permit to prisoners. Not unfrequently, also, Miss Clara took the same journey, sometimes with Dame Worthington, but more often alone, for the distance was not very great, so that she could go and return very easily in a few hours. The interviews between Charles and Dame Worthington were of a painful description to both. Sometimes old Sir Richard was present likewise, by “mere accident,” as he said. They were loud in their hopes of obtaining a pardon from the king. With the prospect of speedy relief Charley’s spirits rose, and his health began to improve so much that he soon acquired a strong, hardy, robust look, from wholesome hard labour, a good appetite, and a pure conscience. His hair began to grow again, and curl as luxuriantly as ever. Miss Clara was in raptures at his improved appearance, and seemed so lost in his company that she frequently came very near losing her conveyance, which would have been not only very annoying, but must have disclosed these frequent visits to her mother. Mistress Haylark, in truth, often checked her daughter’s eloquence when discoursing of Charles and reminded her in a whisper that he was a “convict,” and that “it would not do to have anything to say, or even to know such a person.” “Besides, my dear, you have good prospects in life, and money to receive when you marry; but if your ambition doesn’t run higher than to love a penniless fellow like him, without character or prospects, why then you are not ‘a Haylark,’ that’s all I can say about it.” [Illustration: A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR.] Despite all that could be said by her mother to the contrary, Clara was constantly thinking and dreaming about Charles.