‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. At last—I told a story. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph.
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