Jasper County Democrat, Volume 18, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 June 1915 — PEG O'MY HEART [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

PEG O'MY HEART

By J. Hartley Manners

A Comedy of Youth Founded by Mr. Manners on His Great Play of the Same Title—lllustrations From Photographs of the Play Copyright, 1913, by Dodd, Mead Company

SYNOPSIS. Frank O’Connell, young Irish patriot, is shot and wounded by British soldiers while making a home rule speech. Hr Is 'aided by Angela Klngsnorth. an English society girl, who defends him. Angela takes O’Connell to her brother’r home and helps to nurse him. He recovers, and he and the girl become fast friends. O’Connell when well is sent to Jail for disturbing the peace. He finally writes Angela that he has. finished his sentence CHAPTER VII. A Communication From Nathaniel Kingsnorth. THE months that followed were the hardest in O’Connell’s life. Strive as he would, he could find no really remunerative employment. He had no special training. He knew no trade. His pen, though fluent, was not cultured and lacked the glow of eloquence he had when speaking. He worked in shops and in factories. He tried to report on newspapers. But his lack of experience everywhere handicapped him. What he contrived to earn during those months of struggle was all too little as the time approached for the great event. Angela was now entirely confined to her bed. She seemed to grow more spirit-like every day. A terrible dread haunted O’Connell waking and sleeping. He would start out of some terrible dream at night and listen to her breathing. When he would hurry back at the close of some long, disappointing day his heart would be hammering dully with fear for his loved one. As the months wore on his face became lined with care and the bright gold of his hair dimmed with streaks of silver. But he never faltered or lost courage. He always felt he must win the fight for existence as he meant to win the greater conflict later—for liberty. Angela, lying so still, through the long days, could only hope. A She felt so helpless. It was woman’s weakness that brought men] like O’Connell to the edgb of despair. And hers was not merely bodily weakness, but the more poignant one of pride. Was it fair to her husband. Was it just? In England she had prosperous relatives.

They would not let her die in her niis- • ery. They could not let her baby come into the world with poverty as its only inheritance. Till now she had been unable to master her feeling of hatred and bitterness for her brother Nathaniel, her intense dislike and contempt for her sister Monica. From the time she left Eugland she had not written to either of them. , Could she now? Something decided her. One night O’Connell came back disheartened. Try as he would, he could not conceal it. He was getting to the end of his courage. There was insufficient work at the shop he had been working in for several weeks. He had been told he need not come again. Angela, lying motionless and white, tried to comfort him and give him heart. She made up her mind that night The next day she wrote to her brother. She could not bring herself to express one regret for what she had done or said. On the contrary, she made many references to her happiness with the man she loved. She did write of the hardships they were passing through. Rut they were only temporary. O’Connell was so clever, so brilliant, he must win in the end. Only just now she was ill. She needed help. She asked no gift—a loan merely. They would pay it back when the days of plenty came. She would not ask even this were it not that she was not only ill, but the one great, wonderful thing in the world was to be vouchsafed her—motherhood. In the name of her unborn baby she begged him to send an immediate response. She asked a neighbor to post the letter so that O’Connell would not know of her sacrifice. She waited anxiously for a reply.

Some considerable time afterward—on the eve of her travail and when things with O’Connell were at their worst—the answer came by cable. She was alone when it came. Her heart, beat furiously asSsha.opened it. Even if he only sent a little it would be so welcome now when they were almost at the end. If he had been generous how wonderful it would be for her to help the man to whom nothing was too much to give her. The fact that her brother had cabled strengthened the belief that he had hastened to come to her rescue. She opened the cable and read it. Then she fell back on the pillow with a low. faint moan. > When, hours later, O’Connell returned from a vain search fbr work he found her senseless with the cable in her fingers. He tried to revive her without success. He sent a neighbor for a doctor. As he watched the worn, patient face, his heart full to bursting, the thought flashed through him what could have happened to cause this collapse. He became conscious of the ca-

ble he had found tightly clasped in her hand. lie picked it up and read it It was very .brief. All it said was: You have made your bed. Lie in it. NATHANIEL KINGSNORTH. Toward morning the doctor placed a little mite of humanity in O’Connell’s arms. lie looked down at it in a stupor. It bad really come to pass—their child—Angela’s and his I A little baby girl! The tiny wail from this child, bora of love and in sorrow, seemed to waken his dull senses. He pressed the mite to him as the hot tears flowed down his cheeks. A woman in one of the adjoining flats who had kindly of sered to help took the child away from Him. Tne doctor rea nim to* side. He looked down at his loved one. A glaze was over Angela's eyes as she looked up at him. She tried to smile. All her suffering was forgotten. She knew only pride and love. She was at peace. She raised her hand, thin and transparent now, to O’Connell. He pressed it to his lips. She whispered: “My baby. Bring me—my baby.” He took it from the woman and placed it in Angela’s weak arms. She kissed it again and again. The child wailed pitifully. The effort had been too much for Angela’s failing strength. Consciousness left her. * * * * * * *

Just before sunrise she woke. O'Connell was sitting beside her. He had never moved. The infant was sleeping on some blankets on the couch, the woman watching her. Angela motioned her husband to bend near to her. Her eyes shone with unearthly brightness. He put his ear near her lips. Her voice was very, very faint. “Take—cam—of—our—baby, Frank. I’m—l’m leaving-you. Hod—help—you —and—keei>—you—and bless you—for —your—love—of me.” She paused to

take breath. Then she whispered her leave taking. The words never left O’Connell’s memory for all the .days of all the years that followed. “My—last—words, dear, the—last— I’ll—ever—speak—to—you. I—l—love—you with all —my heart—and—my soul—husband! Good—goodby, Frank.” She slipped from his arms and lay, lips parted, eyes open, body still. The struggle was over. She had gone where there are no petty treacheries, no mean brutalities—where all stand alike before the throne to render an account of their stewardship. The brave, gentle little heart was stilled forever. *■*•' * * * * And now Peg appears for the first time and brings her radiant presence, her roguish smile, her big, frank, soulful blue eyes, her dazzling red hair, her direct, honest and outspoken truth, her love of all that is clean and pure and beautiful—peg enters our pages and turns what was. a history of romance and drama into a comedy of youth.

Peg—pure as a mountain lily, sweet as a fragrant rose, haunting as an old melody—Peg o’ Our Hearts comes Into our story even as she entered her father’s life, as the Savior of these pages, even as she was the means of saving O’Connell. 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’ConneH’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 realized his only hope of keeping his balance was to work. He went back to the little village he was bora 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 rend 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 she best in Angela came from her mother, O’Connell would have liked much to name the mite Angela. But his dead wife’s wishes were paramount. So Margaret the baby was christened. It was too distinguished a name and too long for such a little bundle of pink and white humanity. It did not seem to. fit her. So “Peg” she was named, and “Peg” she remained for the rest of her life.

Looming large in Peg’s memories in after life was her father showing her St. Ivernan’s hill and pointing out the. mount on which he stood and spoke that day, while her mother, hidden by that dense mass of trees, saw ever.\ movement and heard every word. Then somehow her childish thoughts all seemed to run to home rule—to love of Ireland and hatred of England—to thinking all that was good of Irishmen and all that was bad of Englishmen.

“Whv do ye hate the English bo inuen; latnerr* sne asKea O’Connell up at him with a puzzled look in her big blue eyes and the most adorable brogue coming fresh from her tongue. “Why do ye hate them?” she repeated, “I’ve good cause to, Teg, me darlin’,” he answered, and a deep frown gathered on his brow. “Sure wasn’t me mother English?” Teg asked. “She was.” “Then why do ye hate the English?” “It ’ud take a long time to tell ye that, Peggy. Some day I will. There's many a reason why the Irish hate the English, and many a good reason too. But there’s one why you and I should hate them and hate them with all the bitthemess that’s in us.” “And what is it?” said Teg curiously. “I’ll tell ye. When yer mother and I were almost staarvin’, and she lyin’ .on a bed of sickness, she wrote to an Englishman an’ asked him to assist her. An’ this is the reply she got: ■Ye’ve made yer bed. Lie in it.’ That was the answer she got the day before you were bora, and she died giviu’ ye life. And by the same token the man that wrote that shameful message to a dyin’ woman was her own brother.” “Her own brother, yer tel 1 in’ me?” asked Peg wrathfully. “I am, Peg. Her own brother, I’m tellin’ ye.” “It’s bad luck that man’ll have ali his life!” said Peg fiercely. “To write me mother that—an’ she dyin’! Faith I’d like to see him some day—just meet him—an’ tell him”— She stopped, her little fingers clinched into a miniature fist.

(Tm PK niXTINTEn) * PROGRAM OF Union Township Sunday School Convention TO BE HELD AT Parr, Ind., Sunday, June 6. 10:00—Union Sunday school, conducted by W.O. Gourley. ! o:ss—Music, Invocation by Rev. Chambers. How to Study the Bible., ( has. Harrington. 11:10—Home Department Work, Mrs. X. McKay. Discussion. 31:30 —Cradle Roll, Tp. Chairman of Cradle Roll Dept. Appointment of committees. Dinner. 1 :30—Music. - Invocation, Rev. Postill. I:4o—Organized Work, J. X. Loathornian. V Discussion, led by W. 1, Wood. Solo. 3:lo—Teacher Training, R. W. Fair. Discussion, led by Mrs. Wm. Petty. 2:33—Craded Lessons, Mrs. Dr. Hemphill. Discussion. Music. 3:00—-Temperance Work, B. D. Comer. 3:2o—Missionary Work, Miss Floy Williams. Discussion, led by Lois Meader. Special Music, Aix school. Round Table Conference. Report of Committees. Election of Officers. Offering. Music. Benediction, Rev. Crider.

Peg—Pure as a Mountain Lily.