More than once was Marion Arleigh tempted to break that solemn promise,
and tell all to Lady Ridsdale. She longed to do so--the fact of being
blamed would not prevent her, she felt that she deserved it--but she was
one of those who are most scrupulous in keeping a promise once given. Of
one thing she was quite resolved--she would write to Allan and tell him
this clandestine engagement must come to an end. She could not bear the
burden of the secret any longer, neither could she possibly fulfil the
contract. She found on examining her own heart that she did not love
him, and a marriage without love was absurd.
She told him she would always be his friend, that she should look upon
his advancement in life as her especial care; she should always remember
him, with the most grateful affection; but as for love, all notion of
it must be considered at an end. And, she wrote still further, she could
not blame herself for this, because she felt that her youth and
inexperience excused her. She should always remember the claim that
Adelaide and himself had upon her, and she was always his sincerely
affectionate friend, Marion Arleigh.
Allan Lyster was not altogether surprised at the receipt of this letter;
he had anticipated some such blow. He went with it at once to his friend
and counsellor, his sister.
"It seems to me," he said, "that there is an end of the whole
business--a dead failure."
"Nothing of the kind," she replied. "Now you see the value of my advice
over documentary evidence; these letters of yours are a fortune in
themselves."
"I do not see it," he replied, gloomily.
"Men are not gifted with much foresight," said Adelaide Lyster. "Let us
consider. She has pledged her word, over and over again in those
letters, to marry you."
"She has done so," he replied.
"Then you hold a position from which nothing can dislodge you. If you
were to go over and insist on her promise being carried out, it would be
useless; not only would she refuse, but Lord and Lady Ridsdale would
take her part against you, and all would be lost. Evidently that plan
would be quite useless."
"Yes, there could result nothing save evil from such an attempt," he
replied.
"Take my advice, Allan. Now answer me honestly, what is it that you hope
to make out of this? Do you care very much for the girl herself?"
"I like her," was the hesitating answer; "but I must confess I care more
for money than anything else."
"Then I will teach you how to make money of this affair. Write tomorrow,
tell her you have received her letter, but that you must always love
her, and that you shall hold her to her promise of being your wife. The
chances are that she will not answer that letter, and that for a time
there will be silence between you. Then," she continued, "my advice to
you is this: wait until she marries. You cannot marry her now, she will
never be willing, but you can make a very decent fortune out of her when
she is married."
"In what way?" he asked.
"Hold those letters as a rod over her, threaten to bring an action
against her--she will never know that such an action cannot stand; or if
that does not do, threaten to show them to her husband. Rather than let
him know, rather than let Lord and Lady Ridsdale know, she will give you
thousands of pounds."
Allan Lyster for one-half moment shrank from his sister.
"It seems so very bad," he said.
"Not at all. She will have more money than she can count; you have a
right to some of it. Of course, you will never really tell, but why not
make what you can out of it? She would not even miss a thousand a year
and see what one thousand alone would do for you."
So it was settled--the fiendish plan that was to torture an innocent
woman until she was driven to shame and almost death. He wrote the
letter. Marion received it with silent disdain; she had told him that it
must all be at an end, and it should be so.
Then, as Adelaide had wisely forseen, there fell silence between them.
Adelaide wrote at intervals; in one letter she said:
"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!
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.