’ ‘Gad, but she’s a beauty,’ gasped Hilary, and slammed his sword back in its scabbard. She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension. 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. Abruptly she got out of bed, smoothed her sheet and straightened her pillow and lay down, and fell almost instantly asleep. The tension was palpable. "Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair— eh?" "That's it," rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute. " With this assurance, and at the reiterated request of Thames, the little girl reluctantly withdrew.
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