Mrs. Lynne's breath was coming thick and fast; her pale eyes scintillated; her hands were clinching each other convulsively.
"You will never see Beatrix Dane again," she panted. "Shall I tell you why? She has left us forever—gone away to be married. She is married by this time. She went away, leaving you lying here upon this sick-bed. In vain I begged her to remain for a time with poor Serena and myself and help nurse you. But she only laughed and said that she could not alter her plans and postpone her marriage for the sake of a stranger. I tell you she is gone—gone forever, Keith; and she is married to a wealthy man, who is able to take good care of her. Put her out of your mind at once; she is not worthy a kindly thought from you."
But he only moaned over and over again, weakly, brokenly: "I want Beatrix—Beatrix, my beautiful Beatrix!" until Mrs. Lynne felt that she should go mad.
He had relapsed into delirium again, and the worst was before them.
Days went by; and it was a hand-to-hand fight with death. And away in that distant Southern city, old Bernard Dane waited impatiently for his recovery and return, the only news received by him being the telegrams which Mrs. Lynne sent him almost daily. Their import was always the same: "No better." But the day came at last when, weak and feeble as a newborn babe, Keith Kenyon struggled back to existence once more; and the first person upon whom his eyes rested was Serena Lynne. Constant watching and the cares of the sick-room had not improved her appearance; she was more sallow, and gaunt, and unlovely than ever. His eyes wandered slowly over the grim figure and smileless face, and he strove to speak.
"Mrs. Lynne," he said, softly, firmly, believing that the woman seated at his bedside was the mother instead of the daughter.
Serena started, and an ugly frown disfigured her face.
"Mrs. Lynne is not here," she returned, curtly. "It is I—Serena. You do not see well, Keith!"
A slow smile stole over his lips; he held out one feeble hand.
"I—I beg your pardon, I am sure," he said, the smile lighting up his wasted face like a ray of sunlight. "I am so grateful to you, Serena," he said, softly. "Under God, I owe my life to you."