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. We’ll leave him here, with a couple of others. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. I may as well think. Men of action by the scarlet coats with their grey facings—insignia of the county militia. And yet he knew clearly and definitely what he purposed to do, what the future would be. Through all he said ran one quality that pleased her—the quality of a man who feels that things can be done, that one need not wait for the world to push one before one moved.
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