Mrs. Barnaby, on entering, found the poor prisoner she had so charitably come to visit seated at a writing-desk, with many sheets of closely-written manuscript about it. He rose as she entered, and approached her with a judicious mixture of respectful deference and ardent gratitude. "May Heaven reward you, madam, for this blessed proof of christian feeling.... How can I suitably speak my gratitude?" "I do assure you, Mr. O'Donagough, that you are quite right in thinking that I come wholly and solely from a christian spirit, and a wish to do my duty," said Mrs. Barnaby. Mr. O'Donagough looked extremely handsome as he answered with a melancholy smile, "Alas! madam ... what other motive could the whole world offer, excepting obedience to the will of Heaven, sufficiently strong to bring such a person as I now look upon voluntarily within these fearful walls?" "That is very true indeed!... There _is_ nothing else that could make one do it. Heaven knows I suffered too much when I was here myself, to feel any inclination for returning; ... but I thought, Mr. O'Donagough, that it would be very unfeeling in me, who witnessed your distress, to turn my back upon you when my own troubles are past and over; and so I am come, Mr. O'Donagough, to ask if I can be of any use to you in any way before I set off upon my travels, ... for I intend to make a tour to France, and perhaps to Rome." The widow looked at Mr. O'Donagough's eyes, to see how he took this news; for, somehow or other, she could not help fancying that the poor young man would feel more forlorn and miserable still, when he heard that not only the walls of the Fleet Prison, but the English Channel, was to divide them: nor did the expression of the eyes she thus examined, lessen this idea. A settled, gentle melancholy seemed to rise from his heart, and peep out upon her through these "_windows_ of the soul." "To France!... To Rome!..." A deep sigh followed, and for a minute or two the young man remained with his eyes mournfully fixed on her face. He then rose up, and stepping across the narrow space occupied by the table that stood between them, he took her hand, and in a deep, sweet voice, that almost seemed breaking into a sob, he said,--"May you be happy whithersoever you go!... My prayers shall follow you.... My ardent prayers shall be unceasingly breathed to heaven for your safety; ... and my blessing ... my fervent, tender blessing, shall hover round you as you go!" Mrs. Barnaby was exceedingly affected. "Don't speak so!... Pray, don't speak so, Mr. O'Donagough!" she said, in a voice which gave her very good reason to believe that tears were coming. "I am sure I would pray for you too, when I am far away, if it would do you any good," and here one of her worked pocket-handkerchiefs was really drawn out and applied to her eyes.