"Take them away," she said. "They are but wreaths for a tomb." At seven o'clock, Mrs. Hamblin entered the room, informing her daughter the bridegroom awaited her. Tears sprang to Belle's eyes as she pressed her lips warmly against a photograph of George Alden. A moment later she stood in the parlor beside Walter Mannis. The officiating clergyman had just finished a prayer, and commenced the ceremony by taking the icy hand of the bride and placing it in that of Mannis, and was about to pronounce the words making the twain one, when the door was hastily thrown open, and a handsome, black-bearded man stood in the presence of the bridal party. "I forbid this marriage!" he exclaimed. "The woman has a living husband." There was astonishment on the faces of all present. Belle was the first to recognize the intruder. Throwing up her arms, she wildly cried: "George--my husband! Thank--" and fell fainting in the arms of George Alden. Senator Hamblin stared at the man before him as if transfixed. Mrs. Hamblin, Fannie Alden, the clergyman and all others present were like statues, still and immovable. But Mannis, having looked once at the stranger, fled hastily from the house. CHAPTER XXXIII. RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE. Mannis, reaching the street, was wild with excitement. "Curse the luck! Why didn't the fellow keep away from Cleverdale? I am lost!" Overcome by his feelings, he entered the Cleverdale Hotel, and ordering a team was soon on his homeward way, while thoughts of inevitable failure and exposure coursed through his mind. The fugitive's return and the revelation made greatly astonished him, yet he had no doubt but that Alden and Belle were really man and wife. Reaching the old Manor at ten o'clock, he was soon in his room, where he gave way to his feelings. "I am a doomed man; my race is about run. What a fool I have been! To-morrow the world will learn of this beautiful little tableau at Hamblin's, and I shall be the butt of all jokes. But, pshaw! what do I care for that? Other things will make the neighborhood too warm for me. I must leave here, and at once." Walking the room, gloom gathered upon his brow as he realized the desperate game he had been playing. Suddenly his gaze fell upon a letter lying upon his writing-table, the superscription being in the delicate handwriting of Mary Harris. With trembling hands he tore off the envelope, and read as follows: "DEAR WALTER: When you read this, my body will be lying in the pond, back of your house, and my soul before its Maker." "Great God!" he exclaimed, "I have killed her! Poor girl! poor girl!" After partially calming himself, he continued reading the letter.