There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. He seemed to be about to move toward her. That was the glorious if bewildering truth. 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. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, after a long interval, “if they are absurd. "No"—as if her thoughts were elsewhere.
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