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. If the boy had done anything wrong back there in the States, his would be the brand of conscience to pay him out in full. Nothing, however, could be discerned, except the crumbling brickwork. " "Impossible!" cried Jonathan. His foot touched the rounded edge of the starling, and glanced off, precipitating him into the water.
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