s your marriage certificate, cousin Hilda, and I have been a
faithful guardian of it; and this, Mr Sheriff, is the link you require
to prove that honest Rolf Morton is really Bertram Brindister, and
rightful Lord of Lunnasting, and that yonder old man, who has tyrannised
over me, and insulted me and wronged me in every way, is an impostor;
and that he instigated the villain Yell to abduct the heir that the
inheritance might be his. See, it is the paper signed by Yell, and
those other two men, and delivered to honest Andrew Scarsdale. Many a
long year have I kept it. You all have heard that it was locked up in
Captain Scarsdale's chest, which, guided by a hand more potent than that
of man, came floating by the northern end of Whalsey, and was drawn on
shore by me and my old dog, Surly Grind. In a cave I had hard by, I
kept the chest and its contents, but months passed away before I
examined them. When I did, I saw well that nothing would be gained by
publishing them. The rightful heir was away, and with his means how
could he hope to contend with the wily and astute Sir Marcus Wardhill?
So I did what many a wiser man might not have done, I bided my time.
Maybe, Sir Marcus, you have thought me at times a greater fool than I
was; but which is the greatest fool of the two--the man who obeys, or he
who sets Heaven at defiance? Once, who could compete with me at school
or college? and what might I not have been had you not, when I was
struck down by illness, taken advantage of my weakness, and by sending
me to a madhouse, confirmed my malady; but fool as you called me, I can
see that Heaven's retributive justice has chastised you through life.
Me you got into your power on the ground that I was insane, and the mind
of the daughter, in whom you took such pride, often totters on its
throne; her son was carried off, as was the rightful heir, and for long
weary years has she waited his return, while the daughter you loved has
been a stranger to your sight; and now deprived of fortune, dishonoured,
and disgraced, you are sinking unregretted into the grave."

"Oh spare him! spare him!" cried Edda, gliding forward and taking the
old man's hand, for neither her mother nor Hilda could speak. "Let his
grey hairs, cousin Lawrence, be his protection."

The old man's head had fallen on his bosom. He was breathing with
difficulty, but she did not perceive it.

Ronald sprang to her side. "For your sake Edda, no one belonging to y