"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.
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.