"He refuses to see you," he said, with a pitying glance at her ghastly face.

The streaming blood had ceased to flow for the moment, and as the physician wiped the stains from her gasping lips, she whispered, brokenly:

"Bring Lily!"

The gaping throng parted to admit Mr. Shelton, with Lily Lawrence clinging to his arm. She knelt down, trembling, and took into her own white, innocent hand the crimson-stained one that had thrust the dagger into the gentle bosom.

Her blue eyes beamed with the soft compa.s.sion of an angel's as she looked down upon the fallen woman.

"I am here, Mrs. Vance," she said, in her sweet, flute-like voice. "I am not angry now. I forgive you everything--freely!"

But Mrs. Vance pushed away the hand that held hers as if its soft clasp hurt her.

"I do not want forgiveness," she gasped, in broken, yet defiant tones.

"I want--Lance. Bring--him--to me."

Silently the young girl turned away, followed by the wondering and admiring glances of all.

She came back at last, bringing with her the reluctant one for whom the dying woman waited longingly. He bent down over her, trying to hide his horror and aversion under a mask of calmness.

The dark eyes, fast growing dim, lighted up with pa.s.sion as she looked upon his face.

"I wanted--to tell you," she gasped, faintly, "that--that all my--sin--was for--love of you, Lance!"

He bowed in silence. He had no words with which to answer her pa.s.sionate avowal.

"She is going very fast," said the physician, in a whisper.

Mr. Shelton bent over her.

"Do you confess your crimes?" he inquired, in a low voice.

Her eyes left Lancelot Darling's face one moment, while she gazed into that of the detective.

"You are--my--accuser?" she faltered.

"I am," he answered, briefly. "Do you confess?"

She did not answer. Her gaze had gone back to Lancelot Darling's face, searching its cold, immovable outlines longingly. The white-haired man of G.o.d bent over her gently.

"Do you confess your sins?" he inquired.

No answer. Her dying gaze was fixed on the one beloved face to the exclusion of all other earthly objects. The minister touched her arm gently.

"I pray you," he said, "do not suffer yourself to die with your unconfessed sins lying heavy on your soul."

She heard the words, and spoke faintly to her idol:

"What is it they want--of me--Lance?"

"To confess your crimes," he said, coldly. "Oh! Mrs. Vance, are you indeed guilty of all with which you are accused?"

"All, all!" she murmured, hollowly. "I tried--to kill Lily--first, you see--then when I felt safe--from detection--old Haidee learned my secret--and threatened to tell _you_--_you_, my darling! So I poisoned her and the old man both--to save myself. But, Lance--it was all for love of you!"

There was neither regret nor repentance in her tone--nothing but pa.s.sionate love and despair. He did not answer, and she broke forth wailingly:

"Oh! Lance, do but say that--you--are sorry--that I must die! Say that--you might have learned to love me--poor me--if you had not learned--my fatal secret!"

Lance turned his head away that he might not see the agonized pleading of her eyes, and seeing that he could not answer her, the minister again spoke gently:

"Mrs. Vance, the time for human love is over with you now! Look rather to the Divine love that is able to pardon your sins though they be as scarlet. Do you repent?"

"Repent!" she echoed, with a wild and chilling laugh. "Repent! No, never! Were it all to do over again, and the prize the same, I would wade through seas of blood to reach my darling's heart! All for _love_, and--my soul--well--lost!"

With the wild, defiant words, a fresh stream of blood poured forth from her lips.

There was a gasp, a spasmodic tremor of all the features, a convulsive quiver of the limbs, and the soul of the guilty woman went wandering forth into the vast arcana of eternity!

"The wages of sin is death."

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

On the day that Mr. Lawrence paid the reward of ten thousand dollars to the detective, Lancelot Darling was present.

He immediately wrote a check for fifteen thousand dollars and tendered it to Mr. Shelton, saying gracefully:

"Allow me also to testify some slight sense of my grat.i.tude, although money alone can never pay the great debt we owe you!"

"Our hearty appreciation and faithful friendship shall unfailingly pay the interest, at least," added the banker cordially.

Mr. Shelton's fine features beamed with pride and joy. He felt a pardonable elation at the wonders his skill and patience had accomplished.

He felt within himself the proud consciousness that his indefatigable perseverance had n.o.bly earned his success.

Within a few weeks he had the pleasure of seeing Doctor Pratt and Harold Colville sentenced to the penitentiary for a long term of years, and Doctor Heath also was duly punished for his wickedness.

The testimony of Lily Lawrence and f.a.n.n.y Colville filled the thronged court-room with horror on the day of the trial.

Everyone felt that lynching would not be too bad for such villains; but the sentence of the court was duly carried out, and the wretches were incarcerated in the penitentiary.

Doctor Pratt served out his sentence faithfully. When it was ended he left the sh.o.r.es of America for a foreign land, not, as some may suppose, to repent of his sins, but solely to hide his dishonored head from the contempt of all who knew him, and begin again under new auspices a second career of vice and crime.

Harold Colville's patience could not uphold him, as it did his colleague, the doctor. Solitude and confinement fairly maddened him.