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. With the immediate necessities in train, Melusine fell to brooding on her situation, which she found insupportable. \" Lucy said. ‘Étes-vous Francais?’ Her eyes, he noted, followed from himself to Hilary and back again, but she did not speak. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. Her usual dignified reserve had availed her nothing.
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