Rowland, meantime, alarmed by the voices, snatched a torch from his attendant, and holding it over the side of the wherry, witnessed the incident just described. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. 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. “I wish you didn’t. It was hard to gain weight when you hated to eat. ” “You’ll get them,” he said.
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