asn't it?"

"I thought it wonderful," Angela answered.

"And what were yer feelings listenin' to a man urgin' the people
against yer own country?"

"I felt I wanted to stand beside you and echo everything you said."

"DID you?" and his eyes blazed and his voice rose.

"You spoke as some prophet, speaking in a wilderness of sorrow, trying
to bring them comfort."

He smiled whimsically, as he said, in a weary voice:

"I tried to bring them comfort and I got them broken heads and
buck-shot."

"It's only through suffering every GREAT cause triumphs," said Angela.

"Then the Irish should triumph some day. They've suffered enough, God
knows."

"They will," said Angela eagerly. "Oh, how I wish I'd been born a man
to throw in my lot with the weak! to bring comfort to sorrow, freedom
to the oppressed: joy to wretchedness. That is your mission. How I envy
you. I glory in what the future has in store for you, Live for it! Live
for it!"

"I will!" cried O'Connell. "Some day the yoke will be lifted from us.
God grant that mine will be the hand to help do it. God grant I am
alive to see it done. That day'll be worth living for--to wring
recognition from our enemies--to--to--to" he sank back weakly on the
pillow, his voice fainting to a whisper.

Angela brought him some water and helped him up while he drank it. She
smoothed back the shining hair--red, shot through gold--from his
forehead. He thanked her with a look. Suddenly he burst into tears. The
strain of the day had snapped his self-control at last. The floodgates
were opened. He sobbed and sobbed like some tired, hurt child. Angela
tried to comfort him. In a moment she was crying, too. He took her hand
and kissed it repeatedly, the tears falling on it as he did so.

"God bless ye! God bless ye!" he cried.

In that moment of self-revelation their hearts went out to each other.
Neither had known happiness nor love, nor faith in mankind.

In that one enlightening moment of emotion their hearts were laid bare
to each other. The great comedy of life between man and woman had begun.

From that moment their lives were linked together.

CHAPTER VIII

ANGELA IN SORE DISTRESS

Three days afterwards O'Connell was able to dress and move about his
room. He was weak from loss of blood and the confinement that an active
man resents. But his brain was clear and vivid. They had been three
wonderful days.

Angela had made them the most amazing in his life. The m