Marion Arleigh's Penance by Charlotte Mary Brame (read me a book .txt) 📕

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.)
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Publication Date: 09-17-2010

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