“Ass!” he went on, still warming. Drink the toast, Jack. A row of magnificent, and even then venerable, elms threw their broad arms over this pleasant spot. The floor was strewn with screws, nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy iron fillet. She was perhaps as near tears as ever before in her life. 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.
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