But here was new music, tender and kindly and whimsical, that first roved to and fro in the mind and then cuddled up in the heart. " Mr. 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. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily.
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