And she did save her father.
It was the presence and the thought of the little motherless baby
that kept O'Connell's hand from destroying himself when his reason
almost left him after his wife's death. The memories of the days
immediately following the passing of Angela are too painful to dwell
upon. They are past. They are sacred in O'Connell's heart. They will
be to the historian. Thanks to some kindly Irishmen who heard of
O'Connell's plight he borrowed enough money to bury his dead wife
and place a tablet to her memory.
He sent a message to Kingsnorth telling him of his sister's death.
He neither expected nor did he receive an answer.
As soon as it was possible he returned to Ireland and threw himself
once again heart and soul into working for the "Cause." He realised
his only hope of keeping his balance was to work. He went back to
the little village he was born in and it was Father Cahill's hands
that poured the baptismal waters on O'Connell's and Angela's baby
and it was Father Cahill's voice that read the baptismal service.
She was christened Margaret.
Angela, one night, when it was nearing her time, begged him if it
were a girl to christen her Margaret after her mother, since all the
best in Angela came from her mother.
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