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.
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