" The clock tinkled ten. 9. 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. Coming from the gloom of the passage, even the corridors seemed sufficiently illuminated for them to see their way. “I must go. Annabel had been here then. Marriage!—and no woman by to tell the child what it was! The shocks and disillusions she would have to meet unsuspectingly—and bitterly. “Mr. “I am convinced you haven’t thought this out,” he went on.
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