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.