canvas painting

'From you, sir.'
I said this almost involuntarily, and, with as little sanction of
free will, my tears gushed out. I did not cry so as to be heard,
however; I avoided sobbing. The thought of Mrs. O'Gall and
Bitternutt Lodge struck cold to my heart; and colder the thought of
all the brine and foam, destined, as it seemed, to rush between me and
the master at whose side I now walked, and coldest the remembrance
of the wider ocean- wealth, caste, custom intervened between me and
what I naturally and inevitably loved.
'It is a long way,' I again said.
'It is, to be sure; and when you get to Bitternutt Lodge,
Connaught, Ireland, I shall never see you again, Jane: that's
morally certain. I never go over to Ireland, not having myself much of
a fancy for the country. We have been good friends, Jane; have we
not?'
'Yes, sir.'
'And when friends are on the eve of separation, they like to
spend the little time that remains to them close to each other.
Come! we'll talk over the voyage and the parting quietly half an
hour or so, while the stars enter into their shining life up in heaven