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. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. ‘Do you think I would do to him as he made a threat to do to me? No. ‘Jacques!’ She got no further, for Kimble came towards her, speaking fast and low. ’ ‘Charvill, then,’ Gerald concluded, unperturbed.
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