For a time things went on this way, D’Alton visiting his mistress frequently, and becoming passionately fond of the children, whom Mrs. Rushton artfully used to influence him on all occasions. To do her justice, it must be said that she never, either in thought or action, was untrue to D’Alton, and that, whatever her past career might have been, she lived at this time a quiet life, indeed, caring only for her husband (as she called him) and her children. By the time the little boy was two years old, both mother and children had so ingratiated themselves in Mr. D’Alton’s affections, that he determined, come what might, to marry his mistress, and so make their future offspring at least legitimate. He was weary of his irregular mode of life, and, being comparatively wealthy, longed for some place which he could call his home. His wife could hardly mix in society, even could she obtain an _entrée_ to that realm of prudery and hypocrisy, but he cared for no society better than that of herself and his children, and his bachelor friends, of whom he had not a few, would, even if they did know or surmise the truth, exercise a more liberal spirit, particularly while the wine in his cellar maintained its reputation. Accordingly, he one day astonished and delighted Mrs. Rushton with the proposal that he should marry her; and that they should live together openly. As may be supposed, the lady unhesitatingly accepted the proposal, and accordingly they were married, formally and legally in St. George’s Church, which, at that time was situated in St. Joseph street, on the site now occupied by Messrs. Ligget & Hamilton’s large dry goods store. Mr. D’Alton took a house in a new portion of the city, and as they lived very quietly, receiving no calls, except from business friends of Mr. D’Alton, the neighbors did not trouble themselves much about them, or inquire concerning their antecedents. Although her husband did not trouble himself whether his wife was or was not received into society, Mrs. D’Alton felt it very keenly. She had not, like him, drank the cup of life’s pleasures till it tasted insipid or even nauseous; on the contrary, she looked on the pomps and vanities of society as only a woman can look on them, and now that she was legally respectable, and rich enough to keep pace with even the most fashionable of her neighbors, it made her very heart ache to think that these scenes of brightness were closed to her as much as ever. She thought of what she might have been had she not in her ambitious haste gone off the right track; and, pained with bitter reflections, and with no one to speak to or converse with (for her husband spent most of his time at the club) she solaced herself, as others in her predicament have done, with the cup of forgetfulness, sinking deeper and deeper at every step, till the habit became confirmed.