She loved Lord Atherton with her whole heart, her womanly nature did him full homage.  She appreciated his noble qualities, she was happy in his love as it was possible for a woman to be.

Yet, after he had asked her to be his wife, there came over her a great longing to tell him the story of her engagement to Allan Lyster.

“He ought to know it,” she said, “though all is at end now; he ought to know it, there should be no secrets between us.”

But she dare not tell him.  One thing that restrained her was the promise she had given never to mention it, but the reason above all others was she knew his fastidious sense of honor so well that she was afraid he would not love her when he knew how lightly she had once before given her love.

So she committed that greatest of all errors, she engaged herself to marry Lord Atherton without telling him of her acquaintance with the young artist.  Then she was so happy for a time that she forgot the whole matter; she was so happy that she ceased to remember there had ever been anything deserving blame in her life.

The season over, they returned to Thorpe Castle, and Lord Atherton soon followed to pay them a long visit.  He told them quite frankly that it was perfectly useless to delay the wedding, that he could not live out of Marion’s presence, therefore the sooner the arrangements were made the better.

That was perhaps the happiest time in Marion’s life.  Lady Ridsdale, delighted at the excellent match she was about to make, was in the highest spirits.  Preparations were begun for the trousseau.  Lord Atherton ordered that his mansion, Leigh Hall, should be entirely refurnished.  Every luxury, every splendor, every magnificence, was prepared for the bride; presents were lavished upon her from all sides; congratulations and good wishes were showered on her.

She was perhaps at that time the happiest girl in the world.  She had almost forgotten that buried romance of her school days.  When she remembered Allan, it was only with an earnest desire to help him.  To Adelaide Lyster she sent some very superb presents, telling her frankly of her approaching marriage, and telling her she would always be most welcome at Leigh Hall.

If she had been more worldly-wise, poor child, she would have known that Adelaide’s silence meant mischief; but she was not married with any presentiment of the sorrow that was to fall so heavily upon her and when she was married she declared herself to be happier than any one had ever been in this world yet.

CHAPTER XII.

An agreement had been made between them that some little time should elapse before Allan put his long-cherished scheme into execution.  Nothing, Adelaide assured him, could have answered his purpose better than Marion’s marriage with the wealthy Lord Atherton.

“You will be able to get what you like from her, Allan.  I am told she worships her husband.  Those letters will be worth a fortune, after all.  Now see what it is to have a clever sister.”