With such qualifications as she possessed, two chief channels of employment lay open, and neither attracted her, neither seemed really to offer a conclusive escape from that subjection to mankind against which, in the person of her father, she was rebelling. ‘Well, sir, if I’ve to choose betwixt him and you, I’ll take you, no question. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. It was a reputation by no means deserved. They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. In all other respects they differed as materially. But he looked back into the hall and spoke to the sergeant who could just be seen behind 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.
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