A pistol was flashed. The torch again blazed. Its light fell upon a tumultuous group.
"Seize the bride," cried Barbara.
"Hold!" exclaimed a voice from the altar. The voice was that of Sybil.
Her hand was clasped in that of Luke. Eleanor had fainted in the arms of the gipsy girl Handassah.
"Are you my bride?" ejaculated Luke, in dismay.
"Behold the ring upon my finger! Your own hand placed it there."
"Betrayed!" screamed Alan, in a voice of anguish. "My schemes annihilated—myself undone—my enemies triumphant—lost! lost! All is destroyed—all!"
"Joy! joy!" exclaimed Mrs. Mowbray: "my child is saved."
"And mine destroyed," groaned Barbara. "I have sworn by the cross to slay the bride—and Sybil is that bride."