Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast. ’ ‘A pox on the creature,’ swore Mrs Sindlesham, clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers. CHAPTER XII. She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. Her sister had told him that it was true. But he told me this much, that no matter how far Mr. CHAPTER III.
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