"Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. My only excuse is that I missed my way here, and I am leaving Paris early to-morrow morning. " "What a strange history is mine!" said Thames. He put an arm around her. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. Hurry to me, I entreat you. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. There are boats on the lake and shady depths and wildernesses of pine-wood. “You ought at once—you ought at once to have told her that.
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