"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.