When he returned, it was always the same. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. A faint anticipation of triumph showed in his manner and a subdued excitement. 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. “I am much obliged to you,” he said. "I shall like to call you that. “You are coming my way,” Courtlaw answered. CONTENTS.
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