Marion Arleigh's Penance Part 11

No, she dare not.

"I cannot live and I dare not die," she moaned. "I am utterly wretched, utterly hopeless and miserable. Life and death alike are full of terrors for me."

What should she do? Through the long, burning hours, through the long, dreary nights, she asked herself that question--What should she do?

Her husband, alarmed at her white face and altered manner, talked of summoning a physician to her. Her friends advised change of air, but there was no human help for her.

Then, when mind and brain alike were overdone, when the strained nerves gave way, when the fever of fear and suspense rose to its height, she thought of flight. That was the only recourse left to her--flight! Then she would escape the terrors of death and the horror of life. Flight was the only resource left to her. The poor, bewildered mind, groping so darkly, fixed on this one idea. She would not kill herself. That would deprive her of all hope in another world. She dare not live her present life, but flight would save her.

People would only think she was mad for running away, and surely when Allan Lyster saw what he had done he would relent and persecute her no more.

She was not herself when she stole so quietly from home and went disguised to the station. She was half delirious with fear and dread; her brain whirled, her heart beat, every moment she dreaded to see Allan Lyster pursuing her. Her only idea was to get away from him, safe in some refuge where he could not find her.

She little dreamed that in the hurry of her flight she had dropped Allan Lyster's letter--the letter in which he threatened to tell her husband--the letter which drove her mad, and sent her from home. She had intended to destroy it; she believed she had done so; but the fact was, it had fallen from her hands on the floor, and she never thought of it again. Her maid, thinking it might be of consequence, picked it up and laid it on the mantelshelf. Only G.o.d knows what would have become of Lady Atherton but for this oversight.

Her absence was not discovered until evening, when it was time to dress for dinner; then the maid could not find her. No notice was taken of her absence at first; they thought she had gone out and had been detained; but when midnight arrived, and there was still no news of her, Lord Atherton became alarmed. He went into her dressing-room, and there his eyes fell upon the letter. He opened and read it, bewildered by its contents. At first he did not understand it, then he began to see what it meant.

Gradually the meaning grew clear to him. This villain was trading upon some secret of poor Marion, and she in fear and trembling had fled. He felt sure of it, and from that conviction he took his precautions.

He said nothing to the servants, except that Lady Atherton had gone away for a few days and would not return just yet. "I shall find her," he thought, "before the scandal gets known." Seeing their lord perfectly cool and unconcerned, the servants made sure all was right. No one in the wide world knew the true story of Lady Atherton's flight except her husband.

"I will find her," he said to himself; "but before I even begin to look for her I will settle my account with the sneaking villain known as Allan Lyster."

CHAPTER XIV.

In his luxurious drawing-room Allan Lyster sat alone. He was engaged to dine with a party of guardsmen at Richmond, but he hardly felt in spirits to go. This was Thursday; never dreaming that Lady Atherton would fail him, he had faithfully promised to pay his bet on Friday. It was now Thursday evening, and he had heard nothing from her. He had not the least intention of really betraying her to her husband--he knew the character of an English gentleman too well for that. He knew that if Lord Atherton had but the least suspicion of the vilely treacherous way in which he had preyed upon his innocent wife, he would, in all probability, thrash him within an inch of his life.

He was far from being comfortable, and wished that he had taken Adelaide's advice and had gone less rashly to work--had been content with less. After all, he felt compelled to own that he had been rather hard upon her.

"Let her send this time," he said to himself, "and I will not trouble her again just yet."

He was seated in a luxurious lounging chair, on the table by his side was a bottle of finest Cognac, and he was enjoying the flavor of a very fine cigar. Notwithstanding all these comforts, Allan Lyster was not happy.

"I cannot think," he said to himself, "why she does not send."

At that moment he heard a sharp ring at the door bell.

"That is the messenger," he said to himself, triumphantly, "and it is quite time, too."

But it was a man's heavy footstep that mounted the stairs, and when Allan Lyster looked anxiously at the door, he was astonished to see Lord Atherton enter, carrying a thick riding whip in his hand.

He sprang obsequiously from his chair.

"I am delighted to see you, my lord," he began, but one look at that white, stern face froze the words on his lips. Lord Atherton waved his hand.

"I want those letters, sir!" he cried, in a voice of thunder--"those letters that you have, holding as a sword over the head of my wife!"

"What if I refuse to give them?" replied Allan.

"Then I shall take them from you. I have read this precious epistle, in which you threaten to show them to me. Now bring them here."

"I am not accustomed, my lord, to this treatment."

Lord Atherton's face flushed, his eyes seemed to flame fire.

"Not a word; bring them to me! You have traded for the last time upon a woman's weakness and fears. I will read the letters, then I will tell you what I think of you."

"Better tell your wife," sneered the other, "what you think of her."

"My wife is a lady," was the quiet reply--"a lady for whom I have the greatest honor, respect and esteem. Your lips simply sully her name, and I refuse to hear it from you."

"She did not always think so," was the sullen reply. "If you had not stepped in and robbed me, she would have been my wife now."

The white anger of that face, and the convulsive movement of the hand that held the heavy whip, might have warned him.

"I want those letters," repeated Lord Atherton; "bring them to me at once. Remember, they are useless to you; you will never force one mere farthing from Lady Atherton--your keeping them will be useless."

"It will be more to my interest to keep them," sneered Allan Lyster; "they are interesting doc.u.ments, and I can show them to those who will not judge the matter in so onesided a manner as your lordship."

"You may publish them, if you please," said Lord Atherton, "but I will take care that every line in them brands you with red hot shame. You shall publish them, and I will make all England ring with the story of your infamy. I will make every honest man loathe you."

"You cannot," said Allan Lyster.

"I can. Englishmen like fair play. I will tell all England how you took advantage of a girl's youth and inexperience, above all, of the fact of her being an orphan, to beguile her into making you a promise of marriage, and how since you have traded, you coward, on her weakness, on her love for her husband, on the best part of her nature; and I will tell my story so honestly, so well, that every honest man shall hate you. You may have frightened my poor wife with shadows, you cannot so frighten me. I tell you, and I am speaking truthfully, that I do not care if you print her letters and every man, woman and child read them; they shall read my vindication of her and my denunciation of you."

"You see, Lord Atherton, she did promise to marry me, and I did reckon upon her fortune. What will you give me for the letters?"

"Nothing. If, after reading them, I find you really received, from the pure and n.o.ble lady who is now my wife, a promise of marriage, I will give you some compensation. I will give you two thousand pounds, although I know that promise to have been drawn from her by fraud, treachery and cunning."

Allan Lyster began to see, in his own phrase, that the game was up. He unlocked the door of a little cabinet, and took from it a bundle of papers. He gave them to Lord Atherton, who, still standing, read them word for word.

"It is as I thought," he said, when he came to the last. "It is the worst case of fraud, deception and cowardice I have ever met. Nothing could be more mean, more dishonorable, more revolting. Still, as the promise is true, I will give you a check for two thousand pounds when you have destroyed them."

Very slowly and deliberately Allan Lyster tore the letters into the smallest shreds, until they all were destroyed, then Lord Atherton, taking a check book from his pocket, wrote him out a check for two thousand pounds.

Allan took it sullenly enough.

"If I had my rights," he said, "I should have more than that every quarter."

"That is as it may be," said Lord Atherton, quietly. "You may have deceived a very young and inexperienced girl; but you would not, perhaps, have been so successful when that same girl was able to compare you with others. Now I have paid you; remember, I do not seek to purchase your silence. I leave it entirely to your own option whether you tell your story or not. I know that you cannot brand yourself with deeper disgrace and shame than by making public your share in this transaction."

Allan Lyster murmured some insolent words which his lordship did not choose to hear. He straightened the lash of his whip.

"Now," he continued, blandly, "I am going to give you a lesson. I am going to teach you several things. The first is to respect the trusts that parents and governesses place in you when they confide young girls to you for lessons; the second, is to respect women, and not, like a vile, mean coward, to trade upon their secrets; and the third lesson I wish to give you is to make you an honest man, to teach you to live on your own earnings, and not on the price of a woman's tears. This is how I would enforce my lesson."