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Peg O' My Heart by J. Hartley Manners
page 76 of 476 (15%)
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.
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