The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. 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. “You delicate female!” “Who cares,” said Ann Veronica, “seeing it’s you? Warm, soft little wonders! Of course I want them. He was the junior of both his sisters, co-educated and much broken in to feminine society. ‘I am not a murderer. ’ ‘What, a common soldier?’ ‘He was not a common soldier.
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