Witch Hazel; or, The Secret of the Locket — page 353: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

he had tried to make her deseribe it to him. his father had again interfered, turned his attention to something else, aud finally sending him to bed with- out allowing him to refer to it again. It all affected him very strangely—the sailor's story, those strange marks upon both theirarms; the meiuory of his mother’s grief on that 29th of Novein- ber, which was the anniversary of the collision and wreck which Tom Lawson had described. He had often wondered, too, what nade him love the sea so when his mother disliked and feared it; for he was never so happy as when he could feel the pulsing of the ocean beneath him, or when he was breasting the waves and the surf upon the beach. “Aim I an adopted child?’ he asked himself. ‘Was I taken from some asylum? My father has been in such places, more or less, all his life; did he find me in the institution to which Tom Lawson took that child? Am [ Captain Morton’s son ?" The conviction took hold of him more and more; more and more he feared that not one drop of Sir Henry Harwood’s blood flowed in his veins. “You are sure thatit was the caplaiws son whom you saved 2?” he asked at last. “As sure as that [saved myself; I saw the little chap every day; there wasn’t any other baby on board the Fortune, and he never left my e¢are until I took him to the’sylum,” replied the sailor. “Then whose child was it that was taken to Cap- tain Morton’s father at the light-house ?” young Har- wood gravely asked. “That's more than I can tell ye, sir. I can only ex- plain it in one way, and that is, there must have been some child washed overboard from the, yeasel dhat we ral into.”