"IF, Mrs. Barnaby!" exclaimed the young man fervently, "IF ... oh! do not doubt it ... do not for a moment doubt that I should feel the influence of it in every nerve. Let me teach you to understand me, Mrs. Barnaby, ... for I have made an examination into the effects of spiritual sympathies the subject of much study.... Lay your hand upon my heart ... nay, let it rest there for a moment, and you will be able to comprehend what I would explain to you. Does not that poor heart beat and throb, Mrs. Barnaby?... and think you that it would have fluttered thus, had you not said that you would pray for me?... Then can you doubt that if, indeed, you should still remember the unhappy O'Donagough as you pursue your jocund course o'er hill and vale ... if, indeed, you should breathe a prayer to Heaven for his welfare, can you doubt that it will fall upon him like the soft fanning of a seraph's wing, and heal the tumult of his soul, e'en in this dungeon?" There was so much apparent sincerity, as well as tenderness, in what the young man uttered, that a feeling of conviction at once found its way to the understanding of Mrs. Barnaby; and little doubt, if any, remained on her mind as to the efficacy of her prayers.... "Indeed, Mr. O'Donagough, I will pray for you then, ... and I'm sure I should be a very wicked wretch if I did not.... But is there nothing else I could do to comfort you?" Mr. O'Donagough had often found his handsome and expressive countenance of great service to him, and so he did now. No answer he could have given in words to this kind question, could have produced so great effect as the look with which he received it. Mrs. Barnaby was fluttered, agitated, and did not quite know what to do or say next: but Mr. O'Donagough did. He rose from his chair, and raising his arms above his head to their utmost length, he passionately clasped his hands, and stood thus,--his fine eyes communing with the ceiling,--just long enough to give the widow time to be aware that he certainly was the very handsomest young man in the world; ... and then ... he drew his chair close beside her, took her hand, and fixed those fine eyes very particularly upon hers. "Comfort me!..." he murmured in a soft whisper, which, had it not been breathed very close to her ear, would probably have been lost.... "Comfort me!... you ask if you could comfort me?... Oh! earth, Oh! heaven, bear witness as I swear, that to trace one single movement of pity on that lovely face, would go farther towards healing every sorrow of my soul, than all the wealth that Plutus could pour on me, though it should come in ingots of gold heavy enough to break the chains that hold me!"