"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 clustered 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 assent, and, with a violent effort, pronounced almost unintelligibly the name of "Lance." Mr. Shelton, who had stood beside her, carried the message to Lancelot, but in his passionate anger against her the young man refused to go, and the detective went back without him. "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 compassion 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.