They allowed her, poor child, some short dream of happiness; she was lulled into perfect security when the blow fell.  As Lady Atherton of Leigh her position was second to none.  Her husband owned half the county; she was queen of the whole of it.  She was beloved, popular and admired; her husband worshiped her; her friends held her in highest honor and esteem.  To Lord and Lady Ridsdale she had grown dear as a child of their own.  She was at the height of human felicity; there was nothing on earth left for her to desire.  Sometimes, when she heard of the misery resulting from very unequal or loveless marriages, she would raise her beautiful face to heaven and thank God that she had been preserved from the snares of her youth.  She heard quite accidentally from some one, who had been purchasing a picture, that Allan Lyster was abroad, and she decided, in her own most generous mind, that when he returned he should have an order that would please him.  But he did not return, and from her old friend, Adelaide, she had heard no single word since her marriage.

There were great rejoicings when her little son and heir was born; the only fear was lest the child should be absolutely killed by the great amount of affection and caresses heaped upon it.  Lord Atherton’s happiness was complete, Lord and Lady Ridsdale were delighted with the beautiful princely boy, and his mother absolutely worshiped him.

It was when the little heir of Leigh was about a year old that the blow fell on his beautiful mother.  She was seated one morning in her luxurious dressing-room, a scene of splendid confusion and brilliant coloring that would have enchanted an artist, herself more lovely than ever, for the promise of her girlhood had developed into magnificent womanhood.  Jewels of great value lay on the toilet-table, costly dresses were lying about.  The nurse had just been in with baby, and nothing would please baby but playing with his mamma’s beautiful golden-brown hair.  Of course his wish must be gratified.  The diamond arrow that fastened the heavy coils was withdrawn, and the glorious wealth of hair, in all its shining abundance, fell in picturesque disorder.  Then Lord Atherton entered to ask his wife some question about the day’s proceedings, and he told her she looked so lovely he would not let the beautiful hair be touched.  My lord withdrew, leaving his wife’s face flushed with pleasure at his praises.  Then came the maid, and she brought in her hands some letters that had just arrived.  Lady Atherton laid them down carelessly; there was nothing, she thought, that could possibly interest her.

Presently she took up the letters, and then all her indifference vanished, the love light died from her eyes, the smile from her lips.  She knew the handwriting.  One of those notes was from Allan Lyster.

She hastily opened it, and, as she read, all the color faded from her sweet face.  The folly and sin of her ignorant girlhood were finding her out.