o 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