’ He made a pretence of rising and making a sortie to the corner to see if anyone was there. 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. "The glass never sinks in that way, d'ye see, without a hurricane follerin', I've knowed it often do so in the West Injees.
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