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The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you. I felt I MUST do something anyhow, and up I came just as soon as I could to see you. 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. She was dressed as a white woman should be; and that for the present satisfied her instincts.
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