" "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. She did not have to investigate that his door was locked. "Another such attempt," said the latter, "and you are a dead man. " "Where did you get it?" inquired Thames. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. 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. Even now, during the recurring doubts of the future, the thought of the island was repellent. She has already forgotten it. "But to the point," continued Wild, unconscious of the peril in which the remark had placed him,—"to the point. " So saying, he left the room.
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