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. ’ ‘Then leave me to guard myself, and do not ask me questions any more,’ she snapped, and crouched down suddenly, searching about for her dagger. A fortnight passed, then a month. ” “Altogether holy, Ann Veronica.
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