Beryl's Triumph by Eglanton Thorne

MRS. CAMPBELL, as, conducted by Mr. Hollys, she moved through the crowded picture galleries, was congratulating herself on the clever way in which she had avoided the trouble and distraction which Beryl's presence would have caused. In the second room, they found one of David Gilbank's pictures.

"Why, I declare! " exclaimed Mr. Hollys, as his eyes fell on it. "It is Egloshayle! And he has painted Coral and Beryl."

It was a boldly-painted sketch of a seabeach, lying bathed in summer sunshine. The tide was receding the beach, the waves in gentle, sportive fashion rippled back from the glistening wet pebbles. Half-way up the beach, keel upwards, lay a stoutly-built fishing-boat, and seated in its shadow were two children, whom Mr. Hollys recognised as Coral and Beryl; for, small as was the scale on which they were painted, the resemblance was striking. The free, unrestrained grace of the children's attitudes was admirable. Nothing could be more natural than Beryl's pose as she leaned against the side of the boat, her bright hair falling over her shoulders in vivid contrast to the dark wood, and her feet firmly planted against the shaggy back of old Lion, who lay just beyond the edge of the shadow, in full enjoyment of the sunshine. Beryl's face wore a look of lazy content; but Coral, who was leaning forward and gazing at the sea, had an expression of wondering, childish reverie in her large dark eyes.

"It is lovely! " exclaimed Mrs. Campbell. "I never saw a prettier picture. The children must have sat for it."

"I believe they did," returned Mr. Hollys, "for I remember now that Beryl told me that Gilbank painted them whilst he was at Egloshayle; but I did not think of anything so good as this. I must secure this picture."

So, asking the ladies to excuse him for a few minutes, he went away to make arrangements for purchasing the painting. But he quickly returned, his face wearing a look of vexation.

"Is it not annoying? " he said. "The picture has already found a purchaser. It was sold not half an hour ago."

"How very tiresome! " exclaimed Mrs. Campbell. "But perhaps you can come to terms with the purchaser."

"I fear not," said Mr. Hollys; "it is no dealer who has bought it, but a gentleman who has taken a fancy to the picture. Robert Harvey is his name. I do not know him, though I seem to have some strange association with the name that I cannot define."

"A very ordinary name! " remarked Mrs. Campbell. "Yes, certainly. Well, I wish Robert Harvey, whoever he is, had not bought that picture."

As he spoke the Robert Harvey who had forestalled him in the purchase of the picture was standing within a few yards of Mr. Hollys. He was a tall, somewhat stern-looking man, with greyish-brown hair and a long sweeping beard of the same mixed hues. His face was deeply coloured, as if from constant exposure to the elements, and had, moreover, a withered, wrinkled appearance, which made him seem older than he was. An expression of melancholy was on his countenance, and, as he moved through the crowd, his shy, awkward bearing betrayed a sense of isolation even in the midst of his fellows.

He paused before the picture which he had made haste to purchase, and looked at it with a long and earnest gaze. It had a strange fascination for him, and the secret of the charm lurked in the grave, sweet face of little Coral. He could not have explained how it was that that childish face exerted such an influence over him.

It seemed to bring to life again his boyish days, so long, long buried in the past. He saw himself a rough, strong lad leading with gentle hand his tiny, dark-eyed sister along a pebbly shore by just such a sunlit sea as shone in the picture. She had been very like that little girl, only prettier; yes, he was sure that his sister was prettier. How he had loved her, his darling, only sister! Yet he had tyrannised over her; he had always made her will bend to his, till a time came when her woman's will, growing strong under the stimulus of love, had dared to rebel against his authority. She had taken her own way in defiance of him, and he had vowed that he would trouble himself no more about her. Now, he knew not if she were dead or alive.

He had returned to London, after being absent for many years from England, hoping to find his sister, but had failed to do so. He had lived to regret, with keen self-reproach, the severity with which he had treated her. He regretted it more than ever, as little Coral's face brought to mind one and another tender memory of his childhood.

Coral and Beryl were astonished to learn that their friend Mr. Gilbank had put them into his picture. Of course they were eager to see the painting, and Mr. Hollys, after some coaxing, agreed to take them to the Academy at an early hour the next morning.

The children were very pleased with David Gilbank's work. Their childish vanity was gratified by his exact representation of them as they had appeared last summer, even to the very sun-bonnets, which they had thought so ugly when Lucy had insisted on their wearing them for the sake of their complexions. Beryl was delighted too with the excellence of Lion's portrait.

"Now, papa, you will take us to see Mr. Gilbank, will you not? " Beryl exclaimed.

"Certainly I will; it is a promise, you know," he replied. "I will try to manage it to-morrow."

"I hope Mrs. Campbell won't want to go with us," said Beryl.

"Why not? " asked her father in surprise. "I thought you were so very fond of Mrs. Campbell."