She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. 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. It’s that father of yours you take after, no question. . Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet. She stood up and he sat down at the microscope, and for a time he was busy scrutinizing one section after another. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window.
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