. ’ He turned to the goggling footman and thrust him towards the coach. Sheppard, whose maternal fears drew her in another direction, hurried off to the Mint. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that. You know, I’ve done no work at all this afternoon. “Your brother has gone?” she asked Sydney, between the courses. 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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