There is a certain place, unmentionable to ears polite, which is popularly believed to be paved with good intentions. Keith Kenyon had evidently laid a block or two of this pavement; at all events, his intentions, though good, had come to naught. And now, just when the mother and daughter had given up all hope of ever seeing him again, he had suddenly appeared at their home. For all these years—the long, long time since their last meeting—years during which Keith Kenyon had not given many thoughts to Serena, and even then only thinking of her as his childish playmate, she had thought of him with a steady and unwavering interest and a fixed intention to some day become his wife.
The news of his adoption by a wealthy old man had not lessened her interest in Keith or her resolution to marry him. He would be rich some day. She was tired of the weary battle with poverty, and longed, with all her mercenary heart and narrow soul, to enjoy the advantages of wealth and position. And as the years went by, her purpose grew with them; she had but one object in life—to marry Keith Kenyon and share his fortune. Yet now that she had met him at last, her love for him had grown to such great proportions, that, even had he not been the rich man's heir in prospective, she would have been willing to marry him had he chosen her to be his wife. But fate had decreed that he should choose otherwise.
After Doctor Lynne's burial, Keith grew rapidly worse, and was soon in a raging fever, with small hopes of recovery.
Doctor Stone, the village physician, called every day to see the patient, and his wrinkled face grew graver and graver as he marked the alarming symptoms.
"I fear for the worst," he said to Mrs. Lynne at last.
And then into that astute lady's heart a swift inspiration rushed like a flood. Her eyes wore a look of resolution, and she shut her thin lips grimly together as she hissed, sharply:
"He shall make Serena his wife before he dies! She shall be his wife; and then she will be able to claim a portion of the fortune. It shall be so!"
She was passing the open door of the sick-room one day, when she was startled by hearing Keith's voice, weak and tremulous, calling her name.
She came to a halt, her face pale with surprise, for he had not spoken for several days, only the wild ravings of delirium.