“I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. I saw it this morning in the Daily Journal—an advertisement, offering a reward—" "A reward!" echoed Jack. On the way he confessed. "Of yourself," he replied, in a mournful tone. "Rowland," said Lady Trafford, regarding him with a look of indescribable anxiety, "you have assured me that I shall behold my son. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male.
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