Her hands fell helplessly to her side, and the tear-stained face and eyes swollen and dim with weeping met her mother's sympathetic gaze.
Mrs. Lynne had little sympathy with such weakness; but Serena was her daughter—her only child—and the mother's heart, jealous over her offspring, was sore for her daughter's sorrow.
"Love him!" repeated Serena, wildly. "I only live for him! I could not exist without him! Believe me, mother, this is no exaggeration. If I could not see Keith Kenyon and be with him sometimes I should die."
Her mother's thin lip curled contemptuously; but a glance into the tear-wet eyes and face full of keenest suffering, and the mother-love and mother-pity—which are almost divine—were in the ascendent once more.
"Bah! Love is only madness. But since you do love him in this mad way, Serena, you shall marry him!"
The words were low and fervent. It was as though that plain-faced, harsh-voiced woman had been suddenly and mysteriously endowed with the gift of prophecy. Would the prophecy come to pass? Time alone would tell.
The days went slowly by, and Keith grew daily stronger and better. One evening, when Serena was sitting beside the sofa, to which he had at last been promoted, he heard the sound of a stifled sob, and turning his head, found that she was weeping bitterly. He was still very weak and feeble, and the sight of her emotion fairly unmanned him.
"Serena! Serena!" he cried, frantically, "for Heaven's sake, tell me what is the matter! Are you in trouble?"
She lifted her pale face and tear-wet eyes.