"I would sacrifice all my fortune—all my hopes —to liberate him. "You won't betray him. Good night. 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. The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant. She could not say who, not yet. You are not a coward David, and you must not talk like one.
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