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 God 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.