As she was pondering upon these matters, she came within sight of the ruins of a poor woman's house, which a few months before this time had been burnt down.

She recollected that her first acquaintance with her lover began at the time of this fire; and she thought that the courage and humanity he showed, in exerting himself to save this unfortunate woman and her children, justified her notion of the possibility that an Irishman might be a good man.
The name of the poor woman whose house had been burnt down was Smith: she was a widow, and she now lived at the extremity of a narrow lane in a wretched habitation.

Why Phoebe thought of her with more concern than usual at this instant we need not examine, but she did; and, reproaching herself for having neglected it for some weeks past, she resolved to go directly to see the widow Smith, and to give her a crown which she had long had in her pocket, with which she had intended to have bought play tickets.
It happened that the first person she saw in the poor widow's kitchen was the identical Mr.O'Neill.

"I did not expect to see anybody here but you, Mrs.Smith," said Phoebe, blushing.
"So much the greater the pleasure of the meeting; to me, I mean, Miss Hill," said O'Neill, rising, and putting down a little boy, with whom he had been playing.

Phoebe went on talking to the poor woman; and, after slipping the crown into her hand, said she would call again.