"It seems that we are just in time," whispered Mr. Shelton reassuringly.
"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 XXXVIII.]
So wild and startling was that anguished scream that even the bride and groom sprang apart and looked toward the door in terror.