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" "No," cried the lady, "this room—I recollect—it has a back window. Jack dropped the knife, and walked sullenly aside. All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional. 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 was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him.
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