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 Liebgott: The Anatomical Basis of Dentistry, 3rd Edition
Chapter 6: The Skull

Test Bank

MULTIPLE CHOICE

1. Which of the following is NOT a bone of the neurocranium?

a. Frontal
b. Vomer
c. Parietal
d. Temporal
e. Occipital
ANS: B
Vomer. The bones of the neurocranium are the frontal bone, the parietal bones, the
temporal bones, the occipital bone, the sphenoid bone, and the ethmoid bone. The vomer
is part of the facial skeleton.

REF: 6-167

2. All of the following are bones in the facial skeleton except the __________ bone.
a. sphenoid
b. nasal
c. lacrimal
d. vomer
e. zygomatic
ANS: A
Sphenoid. The facial skeleton consists of several irregular bones: maxillae, nasal,
zygomatic, palatine, lacrimal, inferior conchae, vomer, mandible, and hyoid. The
sphenoid bone is part of the neurocranium.

REF: 6-167

3. The bony sockets in the maxilla and mandible that support the teeth are the _________.
a. alveolar conchae
b. canine fossae
c. incisive fossae
d. zygomatic canals
e. alveolar processes
ANS: E
Alveolar processes. The alveolar processes of the maxilla and mandible are the bony
sockets that support the teeth.

REF: 6-171

Mosby items and derived items © 2011 by Mosby, Inc., an affiliate of Elsevier Inc.
 Test Bank 6-2

4. Which of the following statements is NOT true?

a. There are 32 teeth in the complete adult dentition and 20 in a child’s dentition.
b. The mental foramen of the mandible transmits the mental nerve and vessels.
c. The mental protuberance of the mandible is a triangular elevation of bone that
forms the chin.
d. The upper jaw is fixed and contains a single bone, the maxilla.
e. The lower jaw is movable and contains a single bone, the mandible.
ANS: D
The upper jaw is fixed and consists of two bones, not one.

REF: 6-171

5. The _______ of the mandible is a roller-shaped process that articulates with the
mandibular fossa of the temporal bone.
a. neck
b. condyle
c. body
d. coronoid process
e. mental foramen
ANS: B
Condyle. The condyle, or condylar head, of the mandible is a roller-shaped process that
articulates with the mandibular fossa.

REF: 6-173

6. _________ is an anthropological landmark marked by the intersection of the sagittal and

coronal sutures in the skull.
a. Bregma
b. Lambda
c. Nasion
d. Inion
e. Pterion
ANS: A
Bregma. Bregma is an anthropological landmark marked by the intersection of the
sagittal and coronal sutures. Lambda is a landmark at the intersection of the lambdoidal
and sagittal sutures. The sagittal suture separates the right and left parietal bones.

REF: 6-172, 6-173, and 6-175

7. The __________ is bounded posteriorly by the paramedian dorsum sellae and by two
oblique petrous temporal ridges and accommodates the hypophysis cerebri in the median
plane and the temporal lobes of the brain laterally.
a. anterior cranial fossa
b. middle cranial fossa

Mosby items and derived items © 2011 by Mosby, Inc., an affiliate of Elsevier Inc.
 Test Bank 6-3

c. posterior cranial fossa

d. crista galli
e. frontal crest
ANS: B
Middle cranial fossa. The middle cranial fossa is bounded posteriorly by the paramedian
dorsum sellae and by two oblique petrous temporal ridges and accommodates the
hypophysis cerebri in the median plane and the temporal lobes of the brain laterally.

REF: 6-180

8. In the posterior cranial fossa, the __________ is a large, oval-shaped opening through
which the spinal cord is continuous with the brainstem above.
a. petrosal sulcus
b. clivus
c. hypoglossal canal
d. foramen magnum
e. jugular foramen
ANS: D
Foramen magnum. The foramen magnum is a large, oval-shaped opening through which
the spinal cord is continuous with the brainstem. It is in the posterior cranial fossa.

REF: 6-180 and 6-182

9. There are four main functional cavities in the skull. They are __________________.
a. nasal, oral, maxillary, and orbital
b. neurocranial, orbital, oral, and nasal
c. nasal, oral, paranasal, and sinus
d. sinus, nasal, neurocranial, and maxillary
e. orbital, maxillary, sinus, and neurocranial
ANS: B
Neurocranial, orbital, oral, and nasal. The four main functional cavities in the skull are
the neurocranial cavity, the orbital cavity, the oral cavity, and the nasal cavity.

REF: 6-184

10. In the neurocranium, the _________ bone contributes to the forehead, the anterior cranial
fossa, and the roof of the bony orbits.
a. occipital
b. temporal
c. sphenoid
d. parietal
e. frontal
ANS: E

Mosby items and derived items © 2011 by Mosby, Inc., an affiliate of Elsevier Inc.
 Test Bank 6-4

Frontal. The frontal bone contributes to the entire forehead region, the anterior cranial
fossa, and the roof of the bony orbits. The parietal bone forms portions of the cranial
vault. The occipital bone forms the posteroinferior aspect of the cranial vault and the
posterior aspect of the posterior cranial fossa.

REF: 6-184

11. The _________ bone contributes to the anterior cranial fossa, the middle cranial fossa,
orbit, infratemporal roof, and roof and lateral wall of the nasal cavity. It fuses with the
occipital bone after adolescence.
a. frontal
b. temporal
c. sphenoid
d. parietal
e. ethmoid
ANS: C
Sphenoid. The sphenoid bone contributes to the anterior cranial fossa, middle cranial
fossa, orbit, infratemporal roof, roof and lateral wall of the nasal cavity, and lateral wall
of the cranial vault. It fuses with the occipital bone after adolescence.

REF: 6-193

12. The __________ bone contributes to the anterior cranial fossa; the roof, lateral wall, and
median septum of the nasal cavity; and the medial wall of the orbit.
a. sphenoid
b. occipital
c. frontal
d. ethmoid
e. temporal
ANS: D
Ethmoid. The ethmoid bone contributes to the anterior cranial fossa; the roof, lateral wall,
and median septum of the nasal cavity; and the medial wall of the orbit. The frontal bone
contributes to the entire forehead region, the anterior cranial fossa, and the roof of the
bony orbits. The occipital bone forms the posteroinferior aspect of the cranial vault and
the posterior aspect of the posterior cranial fossa.

REF: 6-197

13. The ridge of bone that peaks upward in the median plane into the anterior cranial fossa
and is attached to the falx cerebri is the _____________________________.
a. cribriform plate
b. crista galli
c. septal plate
d. uncinate process
e. superior concha

Mosby items and derived items © 2011 by Mosby, Inc., an affiliate of Elsevier Inc.
 Test Bank 6-5

ANS: B
Crista galli. The crista galli is a ridge of bone that peaks upward from the median plane
into the anterior cranial fossa. The falx cerebri is attached to it.

REF: 6-199

14. The right and left maxillae help form all of the following except the __________.
a. upper face
b. orbital floor
c. lateral wall of the nasal cavity
d. floor of the oral cavity
e. floor of the nasal cavity
ANS: D
Floor of the oral cavity. The right and left maxillae help form the upper face, the
infratemporal region, the orbital floor, the lateral wall of the nasal cavity, the floor of the
nasal cavity, and the roof, not the floor, of the oral cavity.

REF: 6-199

15. The ________ bone(s) help form the nasal cavity (lateral wall and floor), the oral cavity
(posterior third of the hard palate), the pterygopalatine fossa, and the orbit (a portion of
the posterior wall).
a. maxillae
b. mandible
c. palatine
d. sphenoid
e. vomer
ANS: C
Palatine. The palatine bones help form the nasal cavity (lateral wall and floor), the oral
cavity (posterior third of the hard palate), the pterygopalatine fossa (medial wall), and the
orbit.

REF: 6-203

16. The palatine bone articulates with the sphenoid bone, the ethmoid bone, the vomer, the
opposite palatine bone, and the _____________________.
a. maxilla
b. temporal bone
c. occipital bone
d. parietal bone
e. mandible
ANS: A
Maxilla. The palatine bone articulates with the maxilla, the sphenoid bone, the ethmoid
bone, the vomer, the inferior concha, and the opposite palatine bone.

Mosby items and derived items © 2011 by Mosby, Inc., an affiliate of Elsevier Inc.
 Test Bank 6-6

REF: 6-203

17. The bone that is roughly diamond-shaped, with four borders and four angles, and that
articulates with the frontal bone, sphenoid bone, temporal bone, and maxilla is the
________.
a. nasal bone
b. lacrimal bone
c. vomer
d. palatine bone
e. zygomatic bone
ANS: E
Zygomatic bone. The zygomatic bone is roughly diamond-shaped, with four borders, four
angles, three surfaces, and three foramina. It articulates with the frontal bone, the greater
wing of the sphenoid, the maxilla, and the temporal bone.

REF: 6-205

18. The _________ bone is a small, thin bone with two surfaces and four borders that
articulates with the maxilla, the ethmoid bone, the frontal bone, and the inferior concha.
a. nasal
b. lacrimal
c. vomer
d. palatine
e. zygomatic
ANS: B
Lacrimal. The lacrimal bone is a small, thin, fragile bone with two surfaces and four
borders that articulates with the maxilla, the ethmoid bone, the frontal bone, and the
inferior concha.

REF: 6-206

19. The nasal bone articulates with the opposite nasal bone, the frontal bone, the maxilla, and
the _________ bone.
a. vomer
b. zygomatic
c. palatine
d. occipital
e. ethmoid
ANS: E
Ethmoid. The nasal bone articulates with the opposite nasal bone, the frontal bone, the
maxilla, and the ethmoid bone.

REF: 6-207

20. The mandible articulates with the _______ bone.

Mosby items and derived items © 2011 by Mosby, Inc., an affiliate of Elsevier Inc.
 Test Bank 6-7

a. sphenoid
b. occipital
c. parietal
d. frontal
e. temporal
ANS: E
Temporal. The mandible articulates with the temporal bone through a movable synovial
joint.

REF: 6-210

21. Which of the following bones have not fused yet as single bones in the neonatal skull?
a. Frontal
b. Mandible
c. Temporal
d. A and C
e. A, B, and C
ANS: E
A, B, and C. At birth the frontal bone is separated by the midline metopic or interfrontal
suture, which ossifies in the first year. The mandible is separated by the symphysis menti,
and it fuses in the first year. The temporal, occipital, sphenoid, and ethmoid bones have
not fused at birth.

REF: 6-217

22. At birth, the mandible is separated into two halves by the ____________________.
a. interfrontal suture
b. retromolar fossa
c. symphysis menti
d. metopic suture
e. coronal suture
ANS: C
Symphysis menti. At birth, the mandible is in two halves, separated at the chin by the
symphysis menti.

REF: 6-217 and 218

Mosby items and derived items © 2011 by Mosby, Inc., an affiliate of Elsevier Inc.
Another random document with
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another sentence in the letter, asking if Miss Douglas was at
home for Christmas; but after he had written it, he thought
it had better not be inserted. He tore the letter up, and
wrote another.

On Christmas Day, an answer arrived. Mrs. Douglas

thanked him very warmly for the money he had sent; it was
far too much for him to have saved in so short a time. She
feared that he was denying himself comforts which he ought
to have, and had she not feared to grieve him by so doing,
she should have returned the cheque. Not liking to do this,
lest he should think her ungrateful, she could only urge him
most earnestly not to attempt to send her so large a sum
the following year. She was glad to tell him they were all at
home, and quite well, and they united in wishing him every
blessing and good wish for Christmas and the New Year.

Captain Fortescue was sitting in the old armchair by the

fire in his room, reading this letter for about the tenth time,
when Mrs. Hall came in to lay the table for dinner. She had
insisted on his having "something decent to eat" (as she
expressed it) on Christmas Day, and had cajoled him into
the extravagance of allowing her to buy a chicken for his
dinner. She had cooked it with great care, and now brought
it in triumphantly and put it on the table.

"There's a beauty, sir, if ever there was one, and I've

made some good bread sauce, and the greens are nice and
fresh; I got them in the market yesterday, and there's some
fine brown gravy."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hall; you take good care of me. I shall
get spoilt if I stop here much longer!"

"Bless you no, sir! You'll never be spoilt, not, while my

name's Mary Ann Hall—that you won't."
 "Perhaps you are thinking of changing your name, Mrs.
Hall?"

"Changing it! No, sir; catch me changing of it—not if I

knows it. I've had one husband, and that's enough for me!"

Whether this was a compliment to the late Mr. Hall,

Kenneth did not know. His landlady bustled out of the room,
glad to think that her lodger would enjoy himself for once in
his life. She had asked his permission to buy the chicken,
but the plum pudding, which followed it, she had ventured
to make without having received leave beforehand. He
would only have said, "No, Mrs. Hall; I couldn't really eat
anything more, even if you were to make it." Knowing that
he would say this, Mrs. Hall had made her pudding without
authority, and carried it in with great delight, a brown, well-
boiled Christmas pudding, bristling with numberless almond
spikes, like a porcupine covered with quills.

"There, sir!"

"Mrs. Hall! Mrs. Hall! What am I to do to you? You'll ruin

me one of these days."

"Nonsense, sir. You'll never be ruined by a bit of

Christmas pudding. Eat it while it's hot, sir. It's sickly-like
when it's cold."

Kenneth had just finished this Christmas dinner, when

there came a loud ring at the bell. Mrs. Hall went to the
door, and presently returned with a yellow envelope in her
hand.

"A telegram, sir! It went to the office, but the boy found
it closed, and the caretaker sent him on here."
 Kenneth took it from her, and opened it without any
feeling of surprise or curiosity. Telegrams often came to the
office, and he had left word that, in his absence, they were
to be sent on to his lodgings. But when he saw the words
on the pink paper inside, he started, and turned so pale
that Mrs. Hall, who was waiting at the door to see if he
wished to send an answer, could not help noticing it.

"Not bad news, I hope, sir?" she said.

"I hardly know, Mrs. Hall. Ask the boy for a form; I
must send an answer."

It was a very short reply, soon written and quickly

despatched—

"Coming immediately."

The telegram was addressed to, "Milroy, The Castle,

Eagleton."

When the boy had been dismissed, Kenneth looked at

the pink paper again. It simply contained these words—

"The Earl is ill—wishes to see you as soon as

possible."

He got out his Bradshaw, and found that, being

Christmas Day, there was only one train by which he could
go, as the trains were running as on Sunday. There was no
time to lose, for he must be in New Street in three quarters
of an hour.

He made his preparations forthwith, hastily packing his

hand-bag. He told Mrs. Hall that he had been summoned to
a relative who was ill, and he managed to arrive on Platform
5 a few minutes before the train was due.

During the journey his thoughts were very busy. What

would he find on his arrival? Had the Lord's leisure, for
which he had been trying to wait patiently, at last arrived?
He had trusted the matter to higher care than his own. Was
that trust now to be rewarded?

It was late at night when he reached North Eaton. There

was no 'bus to meet the train, and no cab could be
obtained. However, after he had walked a little way along
the dark road, he saw the lights of a carriage coming to
meet him. It stopped when it came up to him, and the
coachman, bending down to speak to him, said—

"Beg pardon, sir, but are you Mr. Fortescue?"

Kenneth having replied in the affirmative, he said:

"My lord gave orders that the carriage was to meet the
last train. I'm sorry I'm late, sir."

Kenneth stepped into the carriage, and felt as if he were

acting it all in a dream. He heard the gates opened by the
lodge-keeper, then it grew darker as they drove beneath the
overhanging branches of the oaks in the avenue. Now he
knew that they were coming out into the open park; he
could see the stars shining through the trees, and there was
the moon rising behind the plantation on the other side of
the lake. He knew that he was getting very near now, and
his heart beat quickly at the thought. What reception would
he have? What would he find when he entered the old
Castle?

The carriage stopped before the great door; there was

no need to ring. They were evidently expecting him,
listening for the first sound of the carriage wheels, for the
door was thrown open immediately. He was ushered into
the library, the same magnificent room in which he had
seen the Earl, the room in which the Earl's hand had rested
on the head of the white collie.

The dog was there, lying before the fire. He got up and
ran eagerly forward when the door was opened, but drew
back disappointed when he saw a stranger enter, and threw
himself despairingly on the tiger-skin rug.

In a few moments Mr. Milroy, the secretary, came in.

"I'm glad you've come, Mr. Fortescue; we have been

longing for you to arrive."

"Would you mind telling me why you have sent for me?
I have heard nothing as yet."

"The Earl is very ill, Mr. Fortescue, dangerously ill, I may

say. We have two doctors in the house now; one or other
has been here night and day the whole of the last week. To-
night both are here."

"What is the matter with him?"

"It is the heart. I suppose he has had heart disease for

a long time, so the doctors say, and every now and then he
has a most alarming attack. He had an awful one the day
after you were here last. We had to wire for Sir Lawrence
Taylor at once, and he thought his condition then most
critical. He fancied that the excitement caused by the fire
had brought on the attack. However, they consider that he
has been much worse this time."

"Does he want to see me?"

 "Yes, indeed he does. In fact, he will give himself no
rest at all until he has seen you."

"Do you know why?"

"I haven't the least idea. Perhaps you know, Mr.

Fortescue."

"How should I know?"

"Did you not send the Earl a letter when you were here
last? I remember writing an answer at his dictation. Now,
whatever that letter of yours contained, I should imagine
would be the reason of his wishing to see you now."

At this moment Sir Lawrence Taylor entered, and Mr.

Milroy introduced Mr. Fortescue to him.

"The earl wishes to see you at once, Mr. Fortescue. It

was quite against my judgment that he should see any one.
Perfect quiet is essential for him, but I find that we shall
have no hope of allaying the present alarming symptoms
until he has had the interview upon which he insists. Will
you, therefore, be so good as to follow me to his room?"

The doctor led the way, and Kenneth followed him.

They ascended the great staircase and went into a large

bedroom, the mullioned windows of which looked out
towards the front of the Castle. The bed was draped in
costly Oriental silk hangings, and beneath these, and
propped up by so many pillows that he was sitting more
than lying, Kenneth saw the Earl. Two nurses were in
attendance, and a doctor was sitting beside him with his
finger on his pulse.
 The Earl looked up eagerly as the door was opened, and
Kenneth went forward and stood by the bed.

"My lord, you sent for me," he said, gently.

Lord Derwentwater motioned to Sir Lawrence Taylor to

come near him. Then Kenneth heard him say in an agitated
whisper—

"I must be alone with him. Tell them all to go out."

"My lord, you must promise me not to exert yourself

more than is actually necessary."

"I will promise anything, only leave us alone."

At a word from Sir Lawrence Taylor, the nurses left the

room at once, the two doctors followed them, and closed
the door behind them.

As soon as they were gone, the Earl held out his arms
to Kenneth, who was standing motionless by his bed.

"My son—my dear boy, come to me! Will you forgive

me? Can you ever forgive me for the way in which I have
treated you?"

Kenneth came close to his father, and the Earl put his
arms round him and kissed him. He had refused to kiss him
when he was about to forsake him, a poor, helpless,
motherless babe; but now the kiss, so long withheld, was
given, and the father's tears fell fast, as Kenneth knelt
down by his bed and took hold of his hand.

"Will you forgive me? Can you ever forgive me?" the
Earl repeated feebly.
 "Freely—fully," said Kenneth, as he remembered the
words with which he had that morning concluded his prayer,
"'As we forgive them which trespass against us.'"

"I do not even know your name," said the Earl,

piteously.

"Kenneth, my lord."

"Don't call me that," he said, impatiently. "I loved your

mother, Kenneth."

"Tell me about her, father."

"Her name was Mirabel. She was the only one I ever
really loved; her father's name was De Sainte Croix. He was
of Huguenot descent, and was chaplain in Hyères when I
was there. We were married at Hyères. Kenneth, I have
written a statement, which will be quite sufficient, should I
die, to put you in your right place. My lawyer was here
yesterday. I made him read it through, and I signed it in his
presence. The marriage certificate is with it, so there can be
no difficulty about that."

"Thank you, father, for doing all this."

"Don't thank me," he said; "it's justice—common

justice. It's what ought to have been done long ago. I can
never make up to you for what is past. Who saw that letter,
Kenneth?"

"What letter?"

"The one old Tomkins left in the safe. Some one must
have got hold of that letter."

"How do you know that, father?"

 "I know it because I have had threatening letters,
anonymous ones at first, just vague hints of what might be
done. But, after several of these had come, I had a
mysterious visitor. He waylaid me one evening when I was
walking in the shrubbery. I could not see his face well, he
wore a long coat, and his collar was turned up, and feel
sure that he was wearing a sham beard and moustache. He
told me that he knew something in my past life, unknown to
the world at large; he said that he had met a man whom he
knew to be my son, born in South Africa, not far from
Kimberley; and then he informed me that, if I did not give
him a large sum of money, he would at once disclose my
desertion of that son, and cause my secret to be known to
the world.

"Kenneth, I never knew till then that you were alive.

You were such a small, sickly child, that I had no thought or
expectation of your living more than a few months at most.
Then I did know, but not till then. The man waited for my
answer, and I told him to come again to the same place at
midnight. I went in to consider what I should do. The
Countess was alive then, and I dare not let her know how I
had deceived her. She would never have married me, had
she known that I had a son; for her great desire had been
to have a child to inherit my title and both our estates. But
how could I, after all those years, let her know that I had
deceived her? She was a hot-tempered woman, and there
would have been an awful scene. So, like the coward that I
was, I wrote the cheque, and gave it to him under the deep
shadow of the great chestnut tree near the lake."

"Did you ever see him again, father?"

"Twice again, and each time he demanded a larger sum.

At last I told him that I declined to give him another
farthing, until he revealed the source of his information, and
brought some proof of the truth of his statements; and from
that day to this I have never seen or heard of him. Do you
know who he is, Kenneth, and how he got to know?"

Kenneth gave his father the history of Watson, and of

the disappearance of the letter from the safe, and then he
told him what Marjorie had heard from the old woman in
whose house at Daisy Bank the letter had been found.

"That explains it all, Kenneth. Now that brings us to the

time of the fire and your visit to the Castle. When you came
into the library that day, I saw the strong likeness to myself
at once. I knew you must be my son. At one moment I
thought I would send Montague Jones away, and would tell
you the truth; at the next my heart failed me. What would
the county families round think of my behaviour? What a
revelation of cowardice and injustice it would be to the
servants and tenants! How it would lower me in the
estimation of every one I knew! Then your letter came,
Kenneth, telling me facts which I knew to be true, leaving
no room for speculation or doubt.

"You will wonder that my heart was not touched by it; I

wonder at it myself. But I hardened my heart against you. I
dared not lose the good opinion of my friends. Above all, I
dared not tell Kenmore, my half-brother. He considers
himself my heir; he prides himself upon it. I have been told
that he has already planned how to alter and improve the
park and gardens when I am gone. He does not care for
me, nor I for him; but I felt that I could not bear the storm
which this revelation would raise. But since then—that was
in October, was it not?"

"Yes, father, the fourteenth of October."

 "Since then I have been miserable, utterly wretched. I
have felt sometimes as if Mirabel, my pretty little bride,
came in my dreams to reproach me with the way I had
treated her child. So I began to write the statement I have
told you of; it is here, Kenneth, in this large envelope under
my pillow. Take it, my boy; we will have no tampering with
this letter. Keep it under lock and key, and never let it go
out of your possession. I wrote it, Kenneth, and then I
thought I would leave it with my lawyer, to be opened after
my death. Cowardly again, wasn't it? But then this heart
attack came on, and, Kenneth, something tells me that the
next one will be my last. The doctors seem to be warding
off the fatal consequences of this one, but another may
seize me at any moment. And then, when I knew that, and
began to face death, and thought of standing before my
judge, my heart failed me. Of all the sins of my guilty life, I
feel that this desertion of my own child has been the worst.
And so I sent for you, and you say you forgive me."

"I do, father, indeed I do."

"Thank you, Kenneth; it's more than I deserve. I wish I

could know that I had Divine forgiveness too, but I'm afraid
that is out of the question now; it is too late for that."

"It is never too late, father; you forget how God longs
and yearns to forgive us. He wants to forgive far more than
we want to be forgiven. Why, He wants it so much that He
sent His own Son to die for us, that He might be able to
forgive us. You see He couldn't have forgiven us otherwise,
for it wouldn't have been just. He is obliged to punish sin."

"Go on, Kenneth; I know it all in a way, but I want to

see it clearly now."
 "Well, you see, He let His Son be punished instead of
us, so that when we come to Him He might be just, and yet
able to forgive us. 'If we confess our sins, He is faithful and
just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all un-
righteousness.'"

It was the same verse which Marjorie had repeated to

old Mrs. Hotchkiss, and the simple words, which comforted
the heart of the poor ignorant old woman in Daisy Bank who
could neither read nor write, now brought peace and a
sense of pardon to the highly-cultured and refined
nobleman. He grasped Kenneth's hand as he said—

"I will rest on those words, Kenneth, 'faithful and just.'

Now I am afraid you must call the nurses. Get some dinner,
and rest, and come to me again in the morning."

He grasped his hand warmly as he said goodnight, and

Kenneth opened the door and admitted the doctor. He was
leaving the room when his father called him back.

"Sir Lawrence Taylor, may I introduce my son to you—

the future Earl?"

Sir Lawrence looked in astonishment at Kenneth, who

was standing by the door; the nurses, who had followed the
doctor into the room, also looked round in the utmost
surprise.

"It is true, Sir Lawrence; this is my son. I have not seen

him for twenty-five years, but before you all—" (he looked
round at the nurses) "I own him as my lawful son and heir. I
have sinned against him in the past, but from this day he
shall take his proper and rightful place here. Good night,
Kenneth; I must rest now."
 Was the Earl wandering? Was the brain weakened as
well as the heart? No, he was quite collected and calm.
Moreover, they had only to glance at Kenneth standing by,
with the signs of deep emotion on his face, and then to look
from him to the Earl lying prostrate with exhaustion after
the effort he had made; they had only to compare the two
faces, to feel convinced that the words he had spoken were
not the expression of some fancy of the wandering brain of
delirium, but were, on the contrary, the sober words of
truth and of justice.

A footman had been standing at the door with a tray in

his hand, waiting to bring in beef-tea, which the nurses had
ordered. He heard what was said by the Earl, and, needless
to say, the news spread rapidly through the Castle. In the
housekeeper's room, in the servants' hall, the strange
tidings were eagerly discussed, and the stately butler, who
came to the library soon afterwards, was the first to
address Kenneth by the lawful title, of which he had been
deprived during twenty-five years of his life.

"Dinner is served in the dining-room, my lord."

CHAPTER XXVII
ANOTHER CHAPTER CLOSED

SEVERAL months had gone by since that Christmas

night on which Lord Derwentwater had acknowledged his
son and heir, and Kenneth was now sitting once more in the
little back parlour of Mrs. Hall's house, 156, Lime Street,
Birmingham.

Those months had been most eventful ones, and he

could hardly believe that the time he had been away had
not been longer. Now, he had come to Birmingham to pack
up his belongings, and to finally close his connection with
the insurance company. He had been unable to leave
Eagleton Castle before; his father had been loth to spare
him even for a day. All the love which had been denied him
for twenty-five years seemed to have accumulated, and was
poured out upon him during the short time which they
spent together. The Earl could hardly bear to lose sight of
him even for an hour, and Kenneth devoted himself to his
father, and was an unspeakable comfort and help to him in
countless different ways.

Kenneth had the joy of knowing that the Earl was

clinging with childlike faith to the Saviour of sinners, and
that he was resting all his hopes on the finished work of
Christ. He had passed away from earth, holding Kenneth's
hand, only three weeks ago, and his very last words had
been those which had first brought him comfort and peace:
"'Faithful and just to forgive us our sins.'"

But Kenneth's first fortnight in the home of his

ancestors had been an exceedingly stormy one. Lord
Kenmore, on receipt of a letter from the Earl informing him
of the existence of his son, had appeared on the scenes
extremely indignant, and determined to vigorously contest
Kenneth's claim. All his life he had believed himself to be
the heir to the Derwentwater title and estates. His elder
brother was married, certainly, but he had no family, and he
therefore saw no prospect whatever of anything occurring
to militate against his succession. He had told Lady
Earlswood what his prospects were, and, on the strength of
them, she had given her consent to her daughter's
engagement. The estate which he had inherited through his
mother was comparatively a small one, the rent-roll was a
mere bagatelle, when compared with that of Eagleton.

And now, just when Lady Violet was recovering from her
accident, when the date of their wedding was once more
fixed, when all their arrangements were made, and when
everything seemed going well, this letter from the Earl had
arrived, informing him that a son of his, ignored and
disowned for twenty-five years, had turned up, had been
received and welcomed, and was now to inherit his title and
estates.

The story appeared to Lord Kenmore to be simply

incredible; he could not bring himself to believe that it was
founded on fact; he would not, even for a moment, accept
such a ridiculous statement, even though he had it in the
Earl's own handwriting. His brother's repeated heart
attacks, which rendered his life so uncertain, had made
him, not unnaturally, calculate upon a speedy succession to
the glories of Eagleton Castle. Was it likely then that he
would meekly submit to being disinherited, or would allow
without a hard struggle that those glories would never be
his own?

Thus Lord Kenmore drove up to the Castle in a towering

passion, marched past the footman and butler, walked
imperiously upstairs, and demanded an interview with the
Earl immediately.

When the doctors told him that this was impossible until
the next day, as the Earl was extremely weak that evening
and must be kept perfectly quiet, he was more angry still;
and when he discovered, from the servants, that the
impostor, as he called him, was at that very time sitting in
the Earl's bedroom, to which he was admitted at all hours of
the day and night, his indignation knew no bounds. He
utterly declined to take the slightest notice of Kenneth or
even to see him. He ordered dinner to be served in his own
room, as he did not choose to sit down with the man who
had supplanted him, and he went to bed that night
determined to fight to the last for what he chose to call his
lawful rights.

But the following day, Lord Kenmore was admitted to

the Earl's presence, and going into the room he found the
family lawyer sitting by the bedside. On a table before him
lay the indisputable proofs of the marriage and of the child's
birth, and bit by bit the lawyer, who was the spokesman on
the occasion, showed Lord Kenmore that, if he attempted to
establish his claim in a court of law, he would simply incur
great and needless expense, for he would be perfectly
certain to lose his case.

"I'm sorry, very sorry, Kenmore, that you have been

kept in ignorance of this so long," said the Earl, "and I feel
very much for you in your disappointment; but I must do
justice to my own son."

Thus the interview ended, and Lord Kenmore, still only

half convinced, ordered the carriage, and drove away from
the Castle, without having even met the nephew who had
taken his place.

He wrote many angry letters after his return home, but

after taking further legal advice, he was at last compelled to
own, sorely against his will, that nothing could be done to
reverse the ill-luck which had fallen upon him.

There was great consternation at Grantley Castle when

the news arrived there. Lady Earlswood felt that Lady
Violet's prospects were now far below her expectations. Had
she known that Lord Kenmore was a comparatively poor
man, she would never have consented to the engagement.
However, now it was too late to draw back, and she must
hope to find a better settlement for her younger daughter.
Perhaps this son of Lord Derwentwater might be eligible; he
was a young man, and she gathered from Kenmore's letter
that he was unmarried. She had no idea who he was. Lord
Kenmore told her that he had been born in Africa, and that
he thought he had turned up from some place abroad.
Never for a moment did either she or her daughters connect
him with the son of the rich miner whom they had discarded
two years ago, and whom they now supposed to be earning
his living somehow or other in a very humble manner.
Captain Berington had not mentioned his meeting with
Kenneth, and they had heard nothing of him since the day
that he left Grantley Castle.

When, some time after, the news of the death of Earl

Derwentwater reached her, Lady Earlswood at once
determined to cultivate the new Earl's acquaintance. He
must most certainly be invited to the wedding. He was
Kenmore's nearest relative, and, although she knew that
her future son-in-law was angry with him at present, he
must be made to see the importance of a reconciliation with
his brother before the grand event took place. Lady Maude
was still an unappropriated blessing, and who could tell
whether she might not have a chance of gaining the title
which her sister had unfortunately lost?

During the latter part of the Earl's life, he and his son
had been left in peaceful enjoyment of each other's society.
He recovered from his severe illness to a great extent, and
was able to be moved daily on to a couch in his own room;
but on the fourteenth of March another heart attack had
occurred, more violent than any of those which had
preceded it, and in the space of a few hours he had passed
away.

Lord Kenmore would not even come to his brother's

funeral, and uncle and nephew had therefore never met.

Now Kenneth had at last been able to leave the Castle,

and had come to Birmingham to wind up his affairs there,
and was therefore sitting to write his letters in his old place
in Mrs. Hall's dismal little room. She was very sorry to lose
her lodger, and told him that she would never have another
like him. He had paid her in full for all the time he had been
away, and had delighted her heart by the present of a new
carpet and some pretty furniture to adorn her little room.

"Well, now, to be sure, if ever there was a gentleman,

he's one!" she would say to her friends.

Kenneth, as he sat at the table in the window, was

writing a letter to Mrs. Douglas. If we had looked over his
shoulder, we should have seen that it ran thus:

"156, Lime
Street, Birmingham,

"
April 3.

"DEAR MRS. DOUGLAS,

"I am hoping to have the pleasure of calling

upon you some time next week. I was so
charmed with the peep I had of Borrowdale two
years ago, that I am planning a little holiday in
your beautiful neighbourhood, and I think of
 making the comfortable inn at Rosthwaite my
headquarters during the time I am in
Cumberland.

"I am glad to be able to tell you that I am

receiving more money this year, and therefore
hope that my next remittance will be a
somewhat larger one.

"With kind regards,

"Yours sincerely,

"KENNETH
FORTESCUE."

He read this letter through several times after he had

written it. He had purposely addressed it from his old
lodging in Birmingham. He had carefully concealed his
present position. Had she not said, "I rather hope you are
not a lord; you would seem so much less our friend."

Why, then, should he tell her? He would go unattended,

as the poor man he had been when she saw him last; then
she would feel that no wide social gulf had come between
them. He had no fear of her discovering otherwise who he
was; even Kenmore would never connect him with the
Captain Fortescue of whom he might possibly have heard at
Grantley Castle. In the Earl's statement, his foster-father
had been called by his proper name, Tomkins; the name
Fortescue had not even been mentioned. So that Kenneth
felt sure that his secret was safe, and he hoped that
therefore he would not seem "so much less their friend."
 He had to spend two days in Birmingham winding up his
accounts, and at the end of them, he received Mrs.
Douglas's answer. She told him that she was glad to get his
letter, and that they would all be very pleased to see him
again in Borrowdale.

Kenneth hoped from this letter that he might find them

all at home. He had had a letter from Captain Berington at
Christmas, in which he told him that Violet was quite well
again, and that he was sorry to say that Miss Douglas was
leaving. He wondered whether Marjorie had by this time
undertaken any other work. He could not help hoping that
she was included in the all in her mother's letter.

When at last his packing was finished, Mrs. Hall took an

affectionate farewell of her lodger. He told her that he would
like to hear now and again how she got on, and he would
therefore give her his future address. He handed her his
card, and when she had glanced at it she turned quite pale.

"Who's this, sir?" she said. "This isn't your name!"

"It is, Mrs. Hall—my very own."

"But you're not an earl, surely!"

"Yes, I am, Mrs. Hall."

"Deary me! And I've waited on you and scolded you

when you wouldn't get better dinners. I'm fair scared, sir!"

Kenneth laughed at her dismay.

"Never mind, Mrs. Hall," he said, shaking hands with

her at parting. "You've been a good friend to me, and I shall
never forget your kindness."