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. Good-bye. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket.
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