Mrs. Wrexford was a gentle little white-capped widow whose only happiness in life seemed to be in worrying over others' misfortunes. She was on the board of various charitable organisations and was a busy helper in the field of mercy. She worshipped Angela, as she had her mother before her. That something serious had occurred between Angela and her brother Mrs. Wrexford realised, but she could find out nothing by questioning Angela. Every time she asked her anything relative to her attitude Angela was silent.
One day she begged Mrs. Wrexford never to speak of her brother again. Mrs. Wrexford respected her wishes and watched her and nursed her through her convalescence with a tender solicitude.
When O'Connell's letter came, Angela showed it to Mrs. Wrexford, together with her reply.
"Do you mind if I see him here?" Angela asked.
"What kind of man is he?"
"The kind that heroes are made of."
"He writes so strangely—may, one say unreservedly? Is he a gentleman?"
"In the real meaning of the word—yes."
"Of good family?"
"Not as we estimate goodness. His family were just simple peasants."