"Then it is not too late to save him. " He patted her hand. The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. 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. “That thing’s going on,” she told herself.
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