And the light of prophecy shone in his eyes, and the eerie
tone of the seer was in his voice.
It was the Ireland he had dreamed of! Ireland free, prosperous,
contented--happy. Ireland speaking and writing in her national
tongue! Ireland with all the depth of the poetic nature of the
peasant equal to the peer! Ireland handling her own resources,
developing her own national character, responsible before the WORLD
and not to an alien nation for her acts--an Ireland triumphant.
Even if he would not live to see the golden harvest ripen he felt
proud to be one of those who helped, in the days of stress that were
gone, her people, to the benefiting of the future generations, who
would have a legacy of development by PACIFIC measures, what he and
his forefathers strove to accomplish by the loss of their liberty
and the shedding of their blood.
"Sure it's the big position they should give you on College Green
when they get their own government again, Frank O'Connell," the
little doctor said, shaking his head knowingly.
"The race has been everythin' to me: the prize--if there's one--'ud
be nothin'. A roof to me head and a bite to eat is all I need by
day--so long as the little girl is cared for."
"An' where is the little blue-eyed maiden? Peg o' your heart? Where
is she at all?"
"It's in London she is.
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