"It is better you should not go. Say no more about it, Beryl," said Mr. Hollys, in his most decided manner.
"Poor darling, I wish we could let you have your wish," said Mrs. Campbell fondly, as she placed on Beryl's plate some crystallised apricots, a dainty of which the child was fond.
But Beryl was not in a mood to be solaced by sweetmeats. Her cheek crimsoned, and she bit her lips to keep from crying; but the tears which had sprung to her eyes were called thither by anger rather than by sorrow.
"I should have gone if it had not been for Mrs. Campbell," she complained afterwards to Coral; "Mrs. Everard was willing to take me, and papa would never have thought about its being hot and crowded. But Mrs. Campbell did not want to have me with her; I could see that plainly enough, although she pretended to be sorry for me. I don't like her as I did; she is not nearly so nice as Miss Burton."
And Coral agreed with this opinion.
[CHAPTER XXIV]
DAVID GILBANK'S PICTURE
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.