Your mother, for instance, couldn’t. 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. She let them fall and sped to the companion, where she stood for a moment, the moonlight giving her a celestial touch. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there.
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