On some insane score she fancied she had to state her case in verse. 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. " "You are very kind, Sir," returned the widow, "but I require no support. You get the idea. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. ” “Why not? Your spirits at least should be good. ‘You can if you like. “It is just six o’clock now. ” He said nothing for a space.
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