"Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. 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. “Here’s something rather good,” he said, and with a start and an effort she took his place at the microscope, while he stood beside her and almost leaning over her. ” She replied with a rehearsed answer, “I was told that my real mother died the day I was born. ‘Anyhow, never mind that now. . I’m anxious, joyfully anxious, like a man when he has found a treasure.
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