Jack was almost afraid of speaking; but at length he summoned courage to call out "Mother!" "Who's there?" asked a faint voice from the bed. "I am no murderer," replied Sheppard. Dreams of adorable infants danced through her head as she cradled blankets in her arms. She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves. She knew the truth of it all right. He looked distant, irritated. ” “Upon my word,” he declared, “you are right. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent.
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