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. Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it. Then the long lashes sank demurely over them. And ever after it struck him that her backward smile as she disappeared was charged with some special significance. Spurling had retired for the night. She formed a wild resolution, and, lest she should waver from it, she set about at once to realize it.
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