white-capped widow whose only
happiness in life seemed to be in worrying over others' misfortunes.
She was on the board of various charitable organisations and was a busy
helper in the field of mercy. She worshipped Angela, as she had her
mother before her. That something serious had occurred between Angela
and her brother Mrs. Wrexford realised, but she could find out nothing
by questioning Angela. Every time she asked her anything relative to
her attitude Angela was silent.

One day she begged Mrs. Wrexford never to speak of her brother again.
Mrs. Wrexford respected her wishes and watched her and nursed her
through her convalescence with a tender solicitude.

When O'Connell's letter came, Angela showed it to Mrs. Wrexford,
together with her reply.

"Do you mind if I see him here?" Angela asked.

"What kind of man is he?"

"The kind that heroes are made of."

"He writes so strangely--may, one say unreservedly? Is he a gentleman?"

"In the real meaning of the word--yes."

"Of good family?"

"Not as we estimate goodness. His family were just simple peasants."

"Do you think it wise to see him?"

"I don't consider the wisdom. I only listen to my heart."

"Do you mean that you care for him?"

"I do."

"You--you love him?"

"So much of love as I can give is his."

"Oh, my dear!" cried Mrs. Wrexford, thoroughly alarmed.

"Don't be afraid," said Angela, quietly. "Our ways lie wide apart. He
is working for the biggest thing in life. His work IS his life. I am
nothing."

"But don't you think it would be indiscreet, dear, to have such a man
come here?"

"Why--indiscreet?"

"A man who has been in prison!" and Mrs. Wrexford shuddered at the
thought. She had seen and helped so many poor victims of the cruel
laws, and the memory of their drawn faces and evil eyes, and coarse
speech, flashed across her mind. She could not reconcile one coming
into her little home.

Angela answered her:

"Yes, he has been in prison, but the shame was for his persecutors--not
for him. Still, if you would rather I saw him somewhere else--"

"Oh no, my dear child. If you wish it--"

"I do. I just want to see him again, as he writes he does me. I want to
hear him speak again. I want to wish him 'God-speed' on his journey."

"Very, well, Angela," said the old lady. "As you wish."

A week afterwards O'Connell arrived in London. They met in Mrs.
Wrexford's little drawing-room in Mayfair.

They looked at each other for s