She rose at once with a little exclamation, half of surprise, half of pleasure. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. 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. But native! She must watch out.
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