“Allan has told me what passed between you.”  She made no further comment; after a time she ceased even to mention his name in her letters, and then Marion believed herself, in all honesty, free.  She did not forget her promise; she interested herself greatly in procuring commissions for Allan Lyster; she persuaded Lord Ridsdale to order several pictures from him; she sent very handsome presents to Adelaide, and thanked Heaven that never again while she lived would she have a secret.

How relieved, how happy she felt!  Life was not the same to her, now that this terrible burden was removed.  She asked herself how she ever could have been so blind and mad as to believe the feeling she entertained for Allan Lyster was love.

A year passed, and, except for the favors she conferred upon him, the orders that she had obtained for him, no news came to Marion of the man who had been her lover.  How was she to know that the web was weaving slowly around her?  It was silence like that of a tiger falling back for a spring.

Then the great event of her life came to Marion Arleigh.  She fell in love, and this time it was real, genuine and true.  Lady Ridsdale insisted on her going to London for the season.

It was high time, she said, that Miss Arleigh, the heiress of Hanton, was presented at court, and made her debut in the great world.

So they went to London, and Marion, by her wonderful beauty and grace, created a great sensation there; Heiress of Hanton, one of the prettiest estates in England, she had plenty of lovers; her appearance was the most decided success, just as Lady Ridsdale had foreseen that it would be.

Then came my Lord Atherton, one of the proudest and handsomest men in England, the owner of an immense property and most noble name.  He had been abroad for some years, but returned to London, and was considered one of the most eligible and accomplished men of the day.  Many were the speculations as to whom he would marry—­as to who would win the great matrimonial prize.

The wonder and speculations were soon at an end.  Lord Atherton saw Miss Arleigh and fell in love with her at once.  Not for her money—­he was rich enough to dispense with wealth in a wife; not for money, but for her wonderful beauty and simple, unaffected grace.

He was charmed with her; the candor, the purity, the brightness of her disposition enchanted him.

“Her lips seemed to be doubly lovely,” he said one day to Lady Ridsdale, “because they have not, in my opinion, ever uttered one false word.”

Marion was equally enchanted; there was no one so great or so good as Lord Atherton.  The heroes she had read of faded into insignificance before him.  He was so generous, so noble, so loyal, so truthful in every way, such a perfect gentleman, and no mean scholar.  It was something to win the love of such a man, it was something to love him.

Now she understood this was true love, the very remembrance of her infatuation over Allan Lyster dyed her beautiful faca crimson.  Ah, how she thanked Heaven that she was free, how utterly wretched she would have been for her whole life long had she been beguiled into marrying him!