moment the prison-door closes behind him a thousand voices will cry
'Shame' on you and your government, and a thousand new patriots will
be enrolled. And when he comes out from his torture he'll carry on
the work of hatred and vengeance against his tyrants. He will fight
you to the last ditch. You may torture his BODY, but you cannot
break his HEART or wither his spirit. They're beyond you. They're--
they're--," she stopped suddenly, as her voice rose to the breaking-
point, and left the room.

The magistrate went down the drive. In a few moments O'Connell was
on his way to the Court-House, a closely guarded prisoner.

Angela, from her window, watched the men disappear. She buried her
face in her hands and moaned as she had not done since her mother
left her just a few years before. The girlhood in her was dead. She
was a woman. The one great note had come to her, transforming her
whole nature--love.

And the man she loved was being carried away to the misery and
degradation of a convict.

Gradually the moans died away. The convulsive heaving of her breast
subsided. A little later, when her sister Monica came in search of
her, she found Angela in a dead faint.

By night she was in a fever.