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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. His title has descended to Rowland: his estates to Aliva. When she awoke she felt as if she were adrift on a soft cloud through a golden sky. "Pray, make no further mystery; but tell me all without reserve.
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