” “I thought I explained—” “I don’t think you can have heard me,” said her father; “I have told you to come home. And we won’t make it so. Can you afford to give this time? There are your own affairs to think of. “My dear,” she said, when she could get her breath, “you must come home at once. They laughed and talked and stared about them. 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. That’s probably true. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent.
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