She could not see clearly. An unhappy little sigh escaped her. He smiled. 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. Each of my scholars thinks it his own shirt. It was something that Sebastian had refused to do, a lifestyle that he placed himself above.
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