Sheppard, clasping him with a hand that burnt with fever, "I have been ill—dreadfully ill—I believe delirious—I thought I should have died last night—I won't tell you what agony you have caused me—I won't reproach you. He jumped back, wrenching the sword away. “Will you help me?” he asked. 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. Then a surge of rage welled up. She looked steadfastly out. ‘Like a vision she were. ” “I think so,” said Ann Veronica, and colored.
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