I was not used to seeing a man give way to his feelings in public, still less to seeing a man cry in company, and least of all to see a man say his prayers when he was neither getting up nor going to bed, nor at church, nor at family worship, and before a stranger too! For, as he finished his sentence he touched his curls, and then the place where his crucifix lay, and then made a rapid movement from shoulder to shoulder, and then buried his head in his hands, and lay silent, praying, I had no manner of doubt, for "Barney's" soul.
His prayers did not take him very long, and he finished with a big sigh, and lifted his head again.

When his eyes met mine he blushed, and said, "I ask your pardon, Jack; I'd forgotten ye.

You're a kind-hearted little soul, and I'm mighty dull company for ye." "No, you're not," said I."But--I'm very sorry for you.

Was 'Barney' your-- ?" and I stopped because I really did not know what relationship to suggest that would account for the outburst I had witnessed.
"Ah! ye may well say what was he--for what wasn't he--to me, anyhow?
Jack! my mother died when I was born, and never a soul but Barney brought me up, for I wouldn't let 'em.

He'd come with her from her old home when she married; and when she lay dead he was let into the room to look at her pretty face once more.