His appearance was very different to what it had been three days before.

Now his clothes were dry and clean and mended,--my Irish maids doing; bless their warm hearts! He had cobbled up his boots himself, and his felt hat, which had quite recovered from its drenching, lay at his side.

The perfect rest and warmth and good food had filled up his hollow cheeks, but still his countenance was a curious one; and never, until my dying day, can I forget the rapture of entreaty on that man's upturned face.

It brings the tears into my own eyes now to recollect its beseeching expression.

I do not think I ever _saw_ prayer before or since.