A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. "Ah! Terry O'Flaherty!" he cried, shouting after the Irishman, who took to his heels as soon as he found his murderous attempt unsuccessful; "you may run, but you'll not get out of my reach. And for Suzanne and the vicomte, I am nothing. She could not bear the shame of it. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. 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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