But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. "Where am I to take it to?" asked Sheppard. . I believe I have always been in love with you. ‘That is not your affair. You don’t have to live forever to understand that. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms.
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