His expression altered. “No lecturing, Anna!” she exclaimed. ‘Then mayhap this will persuade you!’ With a scrape of steel, he drew his sword from its scabbard. “I don’t see what else I could have said,” he remarked. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. 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. " "To-morrow will be too late," replied the widow, in a hollow voice, "I feel it will.
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