” And while he talked and watched her as he talked, she answered, and behind her listening watched and thought about him. 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 figure she had longed to see came into her line of vision, but at this crucial moment of hideous realisation, Melusine barely took it in, her eyes fixing blankly on the man behind. From where had he come, and why? An author! To her he would be no less interesting because he was unsuccessful. He halted,—looked fearfully around,—stopped again, and exclaimed aloud, "I don't like the job; and yet it must be done, or Mr. ‘Small wonder in a way that he found hisself consolation elsewhere.
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