Wrapped round the roll of papers in the case, was a letter, addressed to the Earl of Ellingham; and it instantaneously struck Charles that it was in the handwriting of his father--Mr. Hatfield! By the comparative darkness of the ink, it was of a far more recent period than the documents which it accompanied;--but the precise time when it was written did not immediately appear, no date being attached to it. Without pausing to reflect upon the impropriety of violating the sanctity of correspondence concealed with so much precaution in a secret recess,--but carried away by the influence of those feelings which we have above attempted to describe,--Charles Hatfield devoured the contents of this letter; and though they are already familiar to the reader, yet for the purposes of our narrative we quote them again:-- “I have sent you the papers, my dear brother--for so I shall make bold to call you still,--to convince you that I did not forge an idle tale when we met last. Whatever your motive for abandoning me in my last hour may be, I entertain no ill feeling towards you: on the contrary, I hope that God may prosper you, and give you long life to enjoy that title and fortune which in so short a time will be beyond the possibility of dispute. “I had promised to leave behind me a written narrative of my chequered and eventful history for your perusal: but--need I explain wherefore I have not fulfilled this promise? “T. R.” “His brother--his dear brother!” gasped Charles Hatfield, as the letter dropped from his hands; but his eyes remained intently fixed upon it: “his brother!” he repeated. “My God! then am I the nephew of the Earl of Ellingham?--am I the cousin of Lady Frances, whom I already love so well? But----gracious heavens!” he ejaculated, as another and still more thrilling idea flashed to his mind: “if Mr. Hatfield be indeed the brother of the Earl of Ellingham--as he assuredly is,--then is he the elder brother! And if the elder brother, he himself should be the bearer of the title--and I--I should be a Viscount! But--ah! perhaps my father is the illegitimate offspring of the late Earl--and that this is the reason wherefore the family honours and estates have devolved upon the younger brother! And yet--what mean these words?--‘_give you long life to enjoy that title and fortune which in so short a time will be beyond the possibility of dispute_!’ Oh! here again is some dreadful mystery: just heavens! what a fated--doomed family is ours! Doubt--uncertainty--secrecy characterise all its history:--at least the experience of the last two days would lead me so to believe!” At this moment the young man’s eyes fell upon the roll of paper which he had taken from the leathern case: and with feverish impatience--yet still with care, inasmuch as the documents were as fragile with old age as tinder--he proceeded to examine them.