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. Sheppard in a troubled voice, "that if I lost my child, I should lose all I have left in the world. She sprang to her feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes. ‘Assuredly it is locked up. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living.
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