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. He seemed to be about to move toward her. "Your ladyship is far too unwell to travel," remarked the female attendant, assisting her to rise; "you'll never be able to reach Manchester. She took Mr. He would refuse to listen and absolve her unshriven. He glanced up. “Oh my God, what if she’s dead?” More giggling.
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