Marion Arleigh's Penance by Charlotte M. Braeme

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Then followed a description of the lady and of the dress she wore. Lord
Atherton felt sure that it was his lost wife.

Without saying one word, he went at once to Redcliffe; he went to the
address given and was referred to Mrs. Hirste's.

He went there, and said he had every reason to believe the lady
mentioned in the advertisement was his wife. "She left home," he said,
"unknown to us, delirious, without doubt, at the time, and quite unable
to account for her own action."

They took him into the room where she lay; he looked at the flushed face
and shining eyes.

"It is my wife," he said, quietly. "Thank God, I have found her."

But Marion did not know him; her hot lips murmured continually of Allan,
who was persecuting her, and of her husband whom she loved so dearly,
but who would never be willing to see her again.

"How she must have suffered!" he said to himself. Then he telegraphed to
London for a physician and a nurse. They were not long in coming; by
that time the whole village was in a state of excitement and
consternation.

"She will recover, I have every reason to believe," said the doctor,
"but she has evidently suffered long and terribly. Some domestic
trouble, my lord, I suppose, that has preyed upon her?"

"Yes," replied Lord Atherton, "a domestic trouble that she has been
foolish enough to keep to herself and which had preyed on her mind."

She had the best of care, the kindest and most constant attention, yet
it was some time before she opened her eyes to the ordinary affairs of
this life.

Lord Atherton never forgot the hour--he was sitting by her bedside. He
had barely left her since her illness began, and suddenly he heard the
sound of a low, faint sigh.

He looked eagerly into the worn, sweet face--once more the light of
reason shone in those lovely eyes.

"Marion," he said, gently.

She gave one half-frightened glance at him, then buried her face in her
hands with a moan.

"My sweet wife," he said, "do not be afraid. I know all about it,
darling. I have made that villain destroy those letters. You need fear
no more."

"And you are not cross?" she whispered.

"Not with you, my poor child; always trust me, Marion. I love you better
than any one else in the world could love you. I am afraid even that I
love your faults."

"Do you know that I promised to marry him?" she asked.

"Yes, I know all about it. Thank God you were not deluded into carrying
out the promise. It was all a plot, my darling, between that wretched
man and his sister. They knew you had money and they wanted it. I must
not reproach you, but I wish you had told me before we were married--you
should not have suffered so terribly."

"Shall you love me just as much as you did before?" she asked, after a
short pause.

"I may safely say that I shall love you a thousand times better, Marion.
You see, I have found out in this short space of time that I could not
live without you."

She was not long in recovering after that. As soon as it was possible to
move her, Lord Atherton took her to Hanton, and there she speedily
regained health and strength.

When she was quite well, Lord Atherton had one more conversation with
her on this matter.

"You were so very young," he said, "and the brother and sister seem both
to have been specious, cunning and clever; they evidently played upon
your weakness and childish love of romance. Therefore, my darling, I
look very indulgently upon that girlish error, if I may call it by so
grave a name. Shall I tell you frankly, Marion, where you did wrong?"

"Yes," she replied, looking up at him with eyes that shone brightly
through her tears.

"You did wrong in concealing anything from me," he continued. "Rely upon
it, my darling, the surest foundation for happiness in marriage is
perfect trust. A secret between husband and wife is like a worm in a
bud, or a canker in fairest fruit; no matter if the telling of a secret
should even provoke anger, it should always be told. That shall be the
last between us, Marion."

She clung to him with caressing hands, thanking him, blessing him, and
promising him that while she lived there should never more be any
secrets between them.

Lord Atherton was quite right. Allan Lyster was only too glad to keep
his secret, but he never did any more good. Years passed on; fair,
blooming children made the old walls of Hanton re-echo with music; Lady
Atherton had almost forgotten this, the peril of her youth, when once
more there came a letter from Allan Lyster. He was dying, in the
greatest poverty and distress, and implored their help. Lord Atherton
generously went to his aid. He provided him with all needful comforts,
and, after his death, buried him.

Of Adelaide Lyster, after the failure of her brother's schemes, they
never heard again. Lady Atherton is very careful in the training of her
daughters, teaching them to distinguish between true and false
romance--teaching them that the most beautiful poetry of life is truth.

(THE END.)

[Transcriber's Note: The following typographical errors have been
corrected from the original edition.

A missing quotation mark has been added to the sentence _"In all the
wide world there is none like you._

_the very though of seeing you_ has been changed to _the very thought of
seeing you_.

_then they would be maried_ has been changed to _then they would be
married_.

_skilful mamnagement_ has been changed to _skilful management_.

_Then the enterview ended_ has been changed to _Then the interview
ended_.

_The gentleman like him, he thought him clever, gifted and intellectual_
has been changed to _The gentleman liked him, he thought him clever,
gifted and intellectual_.

A missing quotation mark has been added after _or his natural disposition
is anything but candid._

A quotation mark at the end of _"Take my advice, Allan."_ has been
removed.

_Her lips seeemd_ has been changed to _Her lips seemed_.

The original numbering of the chapters, omitting Chapter III, has been
retained.]

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