"Some day the yoke will be lifted from us.
God grant that mine will be the hand to help do it.

God grant I am alive to see it done.

That day'll be worth living for--to wring recognition from our enemies--to--to--to" he sank back weakly on the pillow, his voice fainting to a whisper.
Angela brought him some water and helped him up while he drank it.

She smoothed back the shining hair--red, shot through gold--from his forehead.

He thanked her with a look.