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She ought to have written at once and told him exactly what had happened. Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. 87 “They’re amazing. Though they do, in secret, I believe. Deny me, if you please. It was a bright and beautiful day: so bright, so beautiful, that even her sad heart was cheered by it.
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