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 he rallied, smiling a little. "I did not know … that it was … like that!" She stepped back; but as his hands fell she caught and held them tightly. To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief. The air was pungent and leaden. He said nothing, even though it was not raining.
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