‘What is this fate?’ ‘Un mariage of no distinction. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. ‘But you know everything now,’ protested Hilary, keeping pace as Gerald took the stairs two at a time. We've got to make him take up the harp of life and go twanging it again. I can remove the prisoner at any hour of the night I think fit: and I will remove 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. But they would not be denied.
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