The spinsters had purchased one grass-linen tablecloth; the girl and the young man had purchased nothing. They all left the 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. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. Give me this picture.
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