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. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. \"But you are so beautiful. Kneebone and his friends would be glad of a little refreshment. ‘Certainly you may have me under guard.
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