But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. He was going to tell me something— and he shut up. “I thought every one had heard,” said Miss Klegg. White, my landlady, believes his story. 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.
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