“Yes, sar, dis is me.”
“Had you a son named Mark?”
“Yes, dat I did, an’ a good boy he were, poor feller.” And here the old woman wiped the tears away with the corner of her apron.
“I have come to bring you some good news about him.”
“Good news ’bout who?” eagerly asked the woman.
“Good news about your son Mark.”
“Oh! no; you can’t bring me no good news ’bout my son, septin you bring it from hebben, fer I feel sartin dat he is darh, fer he suffered nuff when de dogs killed him, to go to hebben.”
Mark had already recognized his mother, and being unable to longer conceal the fact, he seized her by the hand and said:
“Mother, don’t you know me? I am your long-lost son Mark.”
Amazed at the sudden news, the woman trembled like a leaf, the tears flowed freely, and she said: