It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. Miss Ellicot, who sang ballads, and liked Brendon to turn over the pages for her, tossed her head. “Do you know,” she confessed, “I never thought of that?” He looked at her as though doubting even now whether she could possibly be in earnest. 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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