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