Her Dark Inheritance

by Mrs. E. Burke Collins

Serena threw herself down upon the faded sofa and clasped her thin hands in an affected attitude.

"Mamma"—in a low, awe-stricken tone, as though she feared that some one would overhear the wonderful news which she was just dying to tell—"Keith Kenyon has asked me—has—has promised to—marry me!"

A look of incredulous surprise flashed into Mrs. Lynne's pale blue eyes; the swift blood dyed her cheek a sullen crimson for a moment, then faded slowly away, leaving her as sallow and uninteresting as before.

"Serena!" she exclaimed in a tremulous voice, "don't be a goose! Don't allow yourself to be misled by your own wishes, or to overestimate trifles, polite fibs or foolish nothings, in which some men indulge, and which mean less than nothing. What foolishness can Keith have been saying to you that you should imagine that he wants to marry you, Serena? Why, it is as plain as anything that he is in love with Beatrix. He will never propose to you, Serena—never in the world—while Beatrix Dane lives, and if he finds out that she is still single."

Serena tossed her head.

"All the same, he has done so!" she cried; "at least, he—I—led him on, you know, mamma; it was the only way. And so he said at last, 'Well, Serena, if you are willing to accept me without any question of love, I ask you to be my wife!' And you had better believe that I did not wait long before I clinched the matter with a yes," she added, coarsely. "So, mamma, you need not trouble your head any more in regard to my future; I shall be all right when I am Mrs. Keith Kenyon and in my handsome home in New Orleans. I will just shine in Southern society, and make these New Orleans women turn green with envy. To think that he should pass by all the young ladies of the South, to find a wife in old Massachusetts, will seem a strange thing to the Southern people. I shall put on a great deal of style, and just overawe them. I am as good as the best of them. Am I not Miss Lynne, only daughter of the late illustrious and eminent physician, Doctor Frederick Lynne, of Chester, Massachusetts? And as Mrs. Keith Kenyon, I imagine my position in the fashionable world will be assured. Oh, mamma, I am perfectly happy!"

Poor Serena! her happiness was very much like the house of which the New Testament tells us, which was founded upon the sand. And when "the rains descended and the floods came, it fell, and great was the fall thereof."

Mrs. Lynne said very little upon the subject; there seemed a sort of insecurity in this projected marriage, which rendered her uncertain in regard to it. She shut her thin lips tightly together and went on with her work, and no more was said for the present.

Then came the telegram for Keith which old Bernard Dane had sent himself. He had come to the conclusion that Keith was not half as ill as he had believed himself, and that if something was not done to rouse him to a sense of his duty he might linger on in that northern clime indefinitely. But perhaps the strangest point in this game of cross-purposes was this: Mrs. Lynne and Serena never once dreamed or suspected that Beatrix was under the same roof where Keith was going—that the same house sheltered her which was home to him. They had paid no heed to the address in the letter which had been found in Doctor Lynne's dead hand; and the remittances for Beatrix had always been forwarded from New Orleans by Mr. Dane's lawyer. And, owing to Keith's illness ever since he had been under the roof of the Lynnes, they had never known or inquired in regard to the old man who had adopted him—not even his name or address. Even the telegrams which reported Keith's condition were sent to the housekeeper, Mrs. Graves. It was a strange complication, and out of this misunderstanding all the future evil was fated to come.

Old Bernard Dane had begun to feel strangely uneasy in regard to Keith's long absence; so at last the sham telegram was sent, and brought about the desired result in Keith's sudden return. But the long journey following so close upon his severe illness proved almost too much for his strength, and the selfish old man was compelled to acknowledge that he had made an imprudent move. For the day after his arrival home Keith was unable to leave his bed, and for a week was quite an invalid. But at the expiration of that time he was able to come down-stairs, and began at once to look for an answer to his letter to Serena, which he had written the night of his arrival home.