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 wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. To his relief, Mrs Sindlesham stepped into the breach, grasping her cane and rising painfully from her chair. Certainly your major—’ ‘Ah, now that’s just it, missie. And I'll have supper with you.
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