The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1908-09-09

o1i!crwise-anything but seem 10
Join. even by implication. in the cry
against her poor, prosecuted Ronald.
The Gallery was not, of course as
full as when she had last seen 1t;
still there was a fair attendance, n
ah!-again there was a knot OF peo-
pie before her portrait! She turned
| faint for the moment-she felt as II
she could not face it.
But she was brave, and steeled her.
| self to go IN. Once more the glass In
front of the canvas bafled them for a
time and then her courage failed her
she shut her eyes.
"Well," her father was saying, i
| don't call that such a bad likeness; /
call it an uncommon good likeness,
by Jove! what did your aunt mean"
Sybil ventured to open her eyes
| again. What wonderful thing was
| this which happened? The idol was
gone out Of the canvas; on the dragon
pedestal lay a spray of white azaleas,
and she herself-oh! could she be as
lovely as that!
For the pictured face had the
bloom of youth and health; the cold
malignity had died out of the eyes,
and left only a subdued amusement;
the expression, with all its animation
and w~itchery, spoke of nothing that
was not womanly, and tender, and
true.
AS Sybil stood there, trying to
realize what had happened, and what
it might mean, Mrs. Standard re-
joined them.
Horace" she said, what % you
think just happened to overhear?
You know the Dorados? American
millionaire-daughter going to marry
Lord Udimore-oh, don't be so
stupid, you must have heard of them
At my rate, you have now! Well,
they were sitting next to me in the
other room, and l actually heard
them-they spoke SO .oud-arrang-
ing that Miss Dorado's portrait
| should be painted on her marriage
by whom do you think? Positively
by Mr.. Ronald Campion! Why, it
may mako his fortune, and yet one
would think. they must have seen
why, what, who is this?'
Its Ronald's idea of me-" said
Sybil, demurely-"as 1 appear with
out my idol"
Good %gracious!" was all that Mrs.
| Standard felt equal to remarking fol
the moment, but presently she said to
the colonel in a very awed and serious
tone, Horace, l have always felt that
there may be occurrences we, with
our limited knowledge, cannot expect
to understand. I assure you when
last saw this picture-and now, as
soon as the actual idol is destroyed.
the portrait is everything it ought to
be. If you see no significance In
that, l am sorry for you! You have
treated that young man very badly,
Horace, and l think it right to tell
you so plainly"
But the reason of the alteration
which had worked such q reaction in
Mrs. Standards feelings was, in
point of fact, a perfectly simple and
straightforward
Now that the picture was his once
more, Campion could retouch il as he
pleased, and, by bringing special in
fuence to bear, had obtained the nee
essary permission, and, accordingly.
the day before, when the gallery was
closed even 10 Sunday parties, had
spent some happy hours in restoring
the canvas to it's original condition.
And now, on this Monday after
noon, the fancy seized him to go and
see how the rehabilitated portrait
looked, and it CHANGED that, at the
moment the colonel was trying to ad.
just his views TO meet his sisters
sudden change of front, he saw Cam
pion himself enter the gallery.
They had withdrawn some dis
lance from Sybil, and her back was
turned to them all three. Mrs. Stan.
iland made a signal that he was to
approach, and he went up with al
anxious heart.
Am l to have my answer-here?'
he said.
"Why-you see," began the col
onel, who had not had time to learn
his lesson yet, and boggled helpless
l., you see, Mr.. Campion-"
Nonsense, Horace! you had bet
ter leave this to me-" said Mrs. Stani.
land. Now, MI. Ronald Campion, il
you're so very anxious to have yoIl
answer at once, the best advice l cal
give you is to go over there, and ask
Sybil yourself fol it,"
And he went; and the answer that
awaited iir being a foregone conclu'
sion, it is only necessary to add that
the tale OF Campion's misfortunes
ended almost where it began, with as
small prospect of ever being resumed
as his sincerest well-wishers could
desire for him.
(The End.)