Lady Trafford uttered a prolonged scream, and fainted. 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. “Until a girl can go away as a son does and earn her independent income, she’s still on a string. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. She pawed at him, her hunger for his body making her dizzy with anticipation.
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