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. I offered myself as a clerk, as a milliner, as a shop girl. It is her duty to tell me, and I would not have her think that I had been trying to work upon your sympathies to learn her secrets. ‘But how did she meet such a person in a convent?’ ‘He was wounded and came there for sanctuary,’ Gerald explained, adding almost through his teeth. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. 9. Perhaps it was loneliness.
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