"My dear friend," said I, "for God's sake do not embarrass me with more alms. I loved to receive them from that hand, so long as they were needed; but they are so no more, and whatever else I may lack--and I lack everything--it is not money." I pulled out my sheaf of notes and detached the top one: it was written for ten pounds, and signed by that very famous individual, Abraham Newlands. "Oblige me, as you would like me to oblige your brother if the parts were reversed, and take this note for the expenses. I shall need not only food, but clothes." "Lay it on the ground," said she. "I must not stop my beating." "You are not offended?" I exclaimed. She answered me by a look that was a reward in itself, and seemed to imply the most heavenly offers for the future. There was in it a shadow of reproach, and such warmth of communicative cordiality as left me speechless. I watched her instead till her hens' milk was ready. "Now," said she, "taste that." I did so, and swore it was nectar. She collected her eggs and crouched in front of me to watch me eat. There was about this tall young lady at the moment an air of motherliness delicious to behold. I am like the English general, and to this day I still wonder at my moderation. "What sort of clothes will you be wanting?" said she. "The clothes of a gentleman," said I. "Right or wrong, I think it is the part I am best qualified to play. Mr. St. Ives (for that's to be my name upon the journey) I conceive as rather a theatrical figure, and his make-up should be to match." "And yet there is a difficulty," said she. "If you got coarse clothes the fit would hardly matter. But the clothes of a fine gentleman--O, it is absolutely necessary that these should fit! And above all, with your"--she paused a moment--"to our ideas somewhat noticeable manners." "Alas for my poor manners!" said I. "But, my dear friend Flora, these little noticeabilities are just what mankind has to suffer under. Yourself, you see, you're very noticeable even when you come in a crowd to visit poor prisoners in the Castle." I was afraid I should frighten my good angel visitant away, and without the smallest breath of pause went on to add a few directions as to stuffs and colours. She opened big eyes upon me. "O, Mr. St. Ives!" she cried--"if that is to be your name--I do not say they would not be becoming; but for a journey, do you think they would be wise? I am afraid"--she gave a pretty break of laughter--"I am afraid they would be daft-like!" "Well, and am I not daft?" I asked her. "I do begin to think you are," said she. "There it is, then!" said I. "I have been long enough a figure of fun. Can you not feel with me that perhaps the bitterest thing in this captivity has been the clothes? Make me a captive--bind me with chains if you like--but let me be still myself. You do not know what it is to be a walking travesty--among foes," I added bitterly.