Her Dark Inheritance

by Mrs. E. Burke Collins

Wonders will never cease in this strange old world of ours, and the very last thing down on the cards had befallen old Bernard Dane. And yet it was not so wonderful, after all. Give any clever, designing woman the opportunities that Serena possessed, and my word for it, she will succeed though she be as ugly as original sin and as shrewish as a virago. And so Serena won the old man's heart, hard, ossified though it was—won it by her kindly attentions, and the way in which she posed before him as an ardent admirer of his many sterling qualities.

The old man grew more impatient every day over her continued absence, but he was compelled to content himself with sending messages to Serena, and ordering all sorts of dainties to be carried to her room.

So the days went by, and Serena had been out of his sight for a whole week; and then, one morning, she made her appearance once more in Bernard Dane's sick-room. The old man, wrapped in his dressing-gown, was seated in an easy-chair at the window, his eyes fixed upon the scene without, a look of sadness resting upon his face—very pale and worn.

At sound of the closing door he turned, and as his eyes fell upon Serena, his wrinkled face lighted up with a flash of joy. He started as though to arise, but he was still quite weak, and he fell back upon the cushions once more.

"Serena!" he exclaimed, "is it really you?"

She had really been ill, but not enough to cause so long an exile from the sick-room; only that had been a part of the game—her game, which seemed destined to prove a grand success.

"I am so glad that you are able to be up!" she cried, as she laid her hands in his.

Her face was very pale, and its pallor was enhanced by a skillful application of pearl powder, while dark circles, artistically laid on beneath her eyes, increased the appearance of illness. She wore a flowing wrapper of pale blue cashmere, and altogether, Serena, who had studied the effect long and earnestly, was looking her best, and she knew it.

She sank in a low rocker at his side, and began to question him as to the care that he had received during her enforced absence from the sick-room.

He answered all her inquiries with real tenderness in his voice, and really the old man was inexpressively touched at the thought that some one cared for him, and surely, lonely and old as he was, this could not be wondered at.