She was as fair as the lily of the lotus. Holding the lamp over her rigid but beautiful features, Jonathan, with some anxiety, placed his hand upon her breast to ascertain whether the heart still beat. You yourself, I am sure, recognize how impossible you have made it for me now to do anything of the sort. “Agreed,” he said, “certainly,” and drew a checkbook toward him. He told me with a coarse nervous laugh. 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.
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