In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. " "He is alive," replied Jack, "I have seen him, and might have conversed with him if I had chosen. Nigel Ennison, Annabel. E. 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. "Why, how the devil did you happen to guess that?" cried the janizary.
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