She had even confided to him how lonely it was in the island. And she was as shrewd as they come. 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. I’m glad the old sore is assuaged. "Si—lence!" vociferated Charcam, laying great emphasis on the last syllable.
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