"My Lily," he said, in a tone of anguish, taking up one delicate hand and looking at the blue veins wandering so clearly over its surface, "you have grown to be a lily indeed. How white and wan you look."

She trembled and clung closer to his breast.

"Ah! papa," she murmured, "they tried to starve me into compliance with their wishes. But though my strength failed and my beauty faded, I would not give up, though I thought I should have died with the weakness and the horror of it all."

"The devils!" exclaimed Mr. Lawrence, smothering a stronger malediction between his lips.

"Papa," she said, in her weak tones, "you know all, do you not? How Mrs.

Vance hated me for Lancelot's sake? How she tried to murder me?"

"Yes, my dear," he answered, gently. "Thank G.o.d, her wicked attempt did not succeed. A terrible retribution awaits her."

"Papa, I can forgive her now since I am restored to you all again," said Lily, sweetly. "Cannot we let her go away and not punish her for her cruelty? I hated her at first, but that is all over with now since she has failed in her endeavor. You know it was all because she loved my Lancelot."

"My love," said the banker, "your sweet forgiveness is angelic; but the secret of Mrs. Vance's crime is in other hands than mine. However much we might wish to shield her from the consequences of her sin we could not do so. The law will have to take its course."

He did not tell her of the marriage that was to take place between her lover and Mrs. Vance that night. In her weak state he feared to shock her by the disclosure. He hoped that they would reach home before the appointed time, and forestall the dreaded event, and he resolved that the knowledge of it should never come to Lily's hearing.

Mr. Shelton returned in a few hours and inst.i.tuted a search. As he had suspected, several sane persons were found confined in the house, and these were set at liberty, swearing deadly vengeance against Dr. Heath and sundry wicked relatives. The evening was far advanced, and the detective began to see the necessity of his hastening Miss Lawrence away if they were to reach Fifth avenue in time to stop the contemplated marriage of Lancelot to Mrs. Vance. He accordingly stated the fact to Mr. Lawrence.

Lily was feeling stronger and better, and declared her desire to start immediately. The carriage was made as comfortable as possible with pillows and cushions, and the young girl was lifted tenderly into it.

They then set forth rapidly on their journey, but the early winter twilight had given place to night before they reached the banker's house.

Lily's heart beat rapidly as they reached home. She remembered the last time she had glided up those steps, worn and weary, but, oh! so happy in the prospect of reunion with her loved ones, and the cruel hand that had s.n.a.t.c.hed her away in the moment that she beheld the faces she had so longed to behold. She clung convulsively to her father's arm as they stepped upon the pavement.

"Courage, dear," he whispered, feeling how she trembled, and how nervously she glanced about her. "You are safe, love. No one can harm you now."

"Oh! papa," she whispered, after her first startled glance around her.

"What does all this mean? Is Ada giving a party?"

Mr. Lawrence glanced up in dismay. He knew what to expect, but he had fondly hoped to reach home before matters went so far.

The mansion was brilliantly lighted from top to bottom. A silken awning extended from the house out to the street to shelter the heads of the guests from the few flying flakes of snow that whirled homelessly through the bitter cold air. They stepped from the carriage upon an elegant Turkey carpet that led to the marble steps.

Every arrangement betokened a grand reception, and as they walked through the wide hall, lined with staring servants, the notes of the wedding march pealed forth from the grand organ in the music-room.

"Oh, G.o.d, if we should be too late!" whispered Mr. Lawrence to the detective.

"It seems that we are just in time," whispered Mr. Shelton rea.s.suringly.

"Must we take Lily in with us?" asked the banker dubiously.

"Yes," was the firm reply, and at the words all three stepped across the threshold of the open drawing-room door.

What a startling sight met the eyes of the fair young girl so strangely restored to her home and loved ones!

The room was crowded with guests, elegantly arrayed, the men in their fine black reception suits, the women in their satins and laces and sparkling jewels. Hot-house flowers were in profusion everywhere. A beautiful horse-shoe, formed with white flowers, depended from the ceiling, and beneath it Lily saw a group that seemed to freeze the blood in her veins to solid ice.

Brilliantly beautiful, flushed with love and triumph, Mrs. Vance stood there in elaborate bridal robes, leaning on the arm of a splendidly handsome young man. His face was slightly turned away, but Lily knew it was none other than her own betrothed, Lancelot Darling, who was listening so calmly there to the opening words of the beautiful marriage service read by the lips of the white-haired and venerable clergyman. At one glance she took in the whole appalling scene, and then a shriek of agony, loud, piercing, horror-stricken, broke from the lips of the stricken girl, thrilling every heart with terror.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

So wild and startling was that anguished scream that even the bride and groom sprang apart and looked toward the door in terror.

Lance saw his lost darling standing there, clinging to the arm of her father, the dark hood thrown back from her head, and her golden hair streaming over her shoulders and about her lovely face, now convulsed with pain and grief.

With a wild prescience of the truth, he rushed forward and with a ringing cry of joy caught his darling to his heart.

At the same moment the clear, full voice of the detective pealed through the large apartment thronged with wedding guests, with the suddenness of a trumpet call.

"Mrs. Vance, I arrest you for the attempted murder of Lily Lawrence, and that of Haidee and Peter Leveret!"

The detective had instantly recognized her form as that of the woman he had seen walking in the road near the Leveret house the day of the murder, and the conviction rushed upon him with the suddenness of a flash of lightning.

None who were present ever forgot the look of the guilty woman as those clarion tones fell upon her ears.

Her brain was reeling with horror, her heart beat to suffocation's verge as she beheld Lancelot clasping her rival to his heart.

When the detective's ringing voice with its dreadful accusation reached her hearing, she turned her face on him a moment, and its expression of awful horror and black despair was fearful to behold.

The next instant she threw up her arms with a wail of agony, and fell down in a writhing heap upon the floor.

The aged minister, who stood nearer to her than the rest of the guests, hastened to lift her up, though he was trembling so perceptibly he could hardly stand.

As he raised the dark head on his arm and turned her face upward to the light, a stream of blood gushed from her lips and poured its crimson rain upon the stainless whiteness of her bridal robe and veil.

"She has burst a blood vessel," said a physician in the crowd, now coming forward. "She will die."

The words reached her ears as they knelt around her trying to stanch the life tide flowing thick and fast from her lips. Her dark eyes opened and stared up into their faces with a mute despair awful to behold.

She must die! That was the only triumph that was left her out of the full cup of happiness pressed to her lips overflowingly but a moment ago! She might cheat the scaffold of its prey--that was all! Life with all its pleasures and luxuries lay before her just a moment before--now, darkness and the grave! Like one in a dream she seemed to recall words carelessly heard in the past that lay behind her forever beyond recall:

"_The wages of sin is death!_"

They gathered around her, the awe-stricken guests, with their pale, pale faces and gala attire, and looked at her dying before them with the awful stain of murder on her soul--that beautiful woman with the bridal wreath crowning her coronal of dark hair, and her satin robe deluged with her life-blood--such a beautiful, beautiful sinner!

Her haunting eyes roved over their faces restlessly, seeking, seeking for one face that was not there. _He_ stood apart with Mr. Lawrence and Ada, showering caresses on the pale, almost fainting girl lying on a sofa, with her dear ones cl.u.s.tered round her. Mrs. Vance could not see them, but her quick intuition told her the truth, and the groan that burst from her lips brought with it a fresh torrent of life-blood.

"She wishes to see someone, I think," said the physician, interpreting her yearning look.

She gave him a glance of a.s.sent, and, with a violent effort, p.r.o.nounced almost unintelligibly the name of "Lance."

Mr. Shelton, who had stood beside her, carried the message to Lancelot, but in his pa.s.sionate anger against her the young man refused to go, and the detective went back without him.