"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 passionate 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: