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 now for existence as he meant to win the greater conflict later--for liberty.
Angela, lying so still, through the long days, could only hope.