" Winifred was going to say "No," but she checked herself; and, with cheeks mantling with blushes, murmured, "I wish you wouldn't tease me about Jack Sheppard. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. 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. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. ‘How is this? Proo-den-ss. He added succinctly, ‘Windows are open. “What he had was altogether insufficient. " "Six weeks!" exclaimed Thames, in a melancholy tone. " With this, he endeavoured to force her off; but, before he could accomplish his purpose, he was arrested, and his throat seized by Jack. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. It tore her apart. Few men could have done as much. "I haven't offended you?"—not contritely but curiously.
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