Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. He could scarcely blame her. Wood having laid hold of the canvass-bag. 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. Also she remembered very vividly the smell of orange blossom, and Alice, drooping and spiritless, mumbling responses, facing Doctor Ralph, while the Rev.
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