A sound almost like a groan came from his throat, but it formed the syllable,—“Yes.”
“Further, I ask you to declare whether Gilbert Barton, who has until this day borne his mother's name of Potter, is your lawfully begotten son?”
“Yes.”
“To complete the evidence,” said the lawyer, “Mary Barton, give me the paper in your hands.”
She untied the handkerchief, opened the Bible, and handed Mr. Stacy the slip of paper which Gilbert had seen her place between the leaves that morning. The lawyer gave it to Elisha Barton, with the request that he would read it aloud.
It was the certificate of a magistrate at Burlington, in the Colony of New Jersey, setting forth that he had united in wedlock Alfred Barton and Mary Potter. The date was in the month of June, 1771.
“This paper,” said Elisha, when he had finished reading, “appears to be genuine. The evidence must have been satisfactory to you, Mr. Stacy, and to my father, since it appears to have been the cause of his making a new will; but as this new will probably concerns me and my children, I demand to know why; if the marriage was legal, it has been kept secret so long? The fact of the marriage does not explain what has happened to-day.”
Mr. Stacy turned towards Gilbert's mother, and made a sign.
“Shall I explain it in my way, Alfred?” she asked, “or will you, in yours?”
“There's but one story,” he answered, “and I guess it falls to your place to tell it.”