That was perhaps the happiest time in Marion's life. Lady Ridsdale, delighted at the excellent match she was about to make, was in the highest spirits. Preparations were begun for the trousseau. Lord Atherton ordered that his mansion, Leigh Hall, should be entirely refurnished. Every luxury, every splendor, every magnificence, was prepared for the bride; presents were lavished upon her from all sides; congratulations and good wishes were showered on her.
She was perhaps at that time the happiest girl in the world. She had almost forgotten that buried romance of her school days. When she remembered Allan, it was only with an earnest desire to help him. To Adelaide Lyster she sent some very superb presents, telling her frankly of her approaching marriage, and telling her she would always be most welcome at Leigh Hall.
If she had been more worldly-wise, poor child, she would have known that Adelaide's silence meant mischief; but she was not married with any presentiment of the sorrow that was to fall so heavily upon her and when she was married she declared herself to be happier than any one had ever been in this world yet.
CHAPTER XII.
An agreement had been made between them that some little time should elapse before Allan put his long-cherished scheme into execution. Nothing, Adelaide assured him, could have answered his purpose better than Marion's marriage with the wealthy Lord Atherton.
"You will be able to get what you like from her, Allan. I am told she worships her husband. Those letters will be worth a fortune, after all. Now see what it is to have a clever sister."
They allowed her, poor child, some short dream of happiness; she was lulled into perfect security when the blow fell. As Lady Atherton of Leigh her position was second to none. Her husband owned half the county; she was queen of the whole of it. She was beloved, popular and admired; her husband worshiped her; her friends held her in highest honor and esteem. To Lord and Lady Ridsdale she had grown dear as a child of their own. She was at the height of human felicity; there was nothing on earth left for her to desire. Sometimes, when she heard of the misery resulting from very unequal or loveless marriages, she would raise her beautiful face to heaven and thank God that she had been preserved from the snares of her youth. She heard quite accidentally from some one, who had been purchasing a picture, that Allan Lyster was abroad, and she decided, in her own most generous mind, that when he returned he should have an order that would please him. But he did not return, and from her old friend, Adelaide, she had heard no single word since her marriage.
There were great rejoicings when her little son and heir was born; the only fear was lest the child should be absolutely killed by the great amount of affection and caresses heaped upon it. Lord Atherton's happiness was complete, Lord and Lady Ridsdale were delighted with the beautiful princely boy, and his mother absolutely worshiped him.
It was when the little heir of Leigh was about a year old that the blow fell on his beautiful mother. She was seated one morning in her luxurious dressing-room, a scene of splendid confusion and brilliant coloring that would have enchanted an artist, herself more lovely than ever, for the promise of her girlhood had developed into magnificent womanhood. Jewels of great value lay on the toilet-table, costly dresses were lying about. The nurse had just been in with baby, and nothing would please baby but playing with his mamma's beautiful golden-brown hair. Of course his wish must be gratified. The diamond arrow that fastened the heavy coils was withdrawn, and the glorious wealth of hair, in all its shining abundance, fell in picturesque disorder. Then Lord Atherton entered to ask his wife some question about the day's proceedings, and he told her she looked so lovely he would not let the beautiful hair be touched. My lord withdrew, leaving his wife's face flushed with pleasure at his praises. Then came the maid, and she brought in her hands some letters that had just arrived. Lady Atherton laid them down carelessly; there was nothing, she thought, that could possibly interest her.