She had very few clear memories before a particular day in the library, when they had finished one of her first reading lessons. ’ Leonardo had taught her that. 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. Her father was holding her waist, smiling. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it. I am sorry to seem to disobey you, but I am.
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