" "You're not going to betray me!" cried Jack, in alarm. 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. “Yes,” she said, very faintly. ‘Good. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write.
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