he old masters--a volume containing master-pieces from Guido,
Correggio, Leonardo, Murillo, and others. With all this wealth of art
the poor child-artist was delighted.
"But here is something better still, my boy! Here is a volume of the
rarest gems," she said, opening a book of Raphael's Madonnas and laying
it before him.
He uttered a cry of delight, and then checked himself, blushed, and
apologized.
Meanwhile Lyon Berners reclined upon the sofa. He was still weak from
his accident, and from the imprudent journey that had followed it. He
lay there, watching Sybil, content that she should be amused, until the
wife herself suddenly lifted up the volume she had been examining with
the boy, and calling Raphael to follow her, went over to her husband,
and kneeling by his side, with the book resting on the edge of the sofa,
she turned a page, and said:
"Look here, dear Lyon! I want you to notice this amazing resemblance,"
and she pointed first to an engraved head of the artist Raphael
occupying the centre of the title-page, and then to the living head of
the boy Raphael bending by her side.
"It is a likeness," said Lyon.
"Likeness! It is a portrait! If I had known this boy before, and had
seen this picture anywhere else, I should have supposed it had been
taken for him," said Sybil, earnestly.
Lyon closed the book, and asked her to play and sing a certain beautiful
evening hymn which was a great favorite with them, after which he
suggested they should retire.
So passed the first evening of Sybil's recovered home.
The next morning, after she had breakfasted, she took another
school-girl's holiday frolic. She ran all over the house, renewing her
acquaintance with every room.
She had scarcely finished her pleasant tour, when old Joe came after
her to say that Marster Sheridan, from Blackville had called to see her.
Her counsel!
The announcement of this visitor awoke Sybil from her pleasant dream of
home and safety.
With trembling hands she arranged her dress, and went below to the
parlor, where she found Mr. Berners entertaining the lawyer.
Both arose at her entrance, and Mr. Sheridan shook hands with her,
saying:
"I do not know a better place to get up my brief for the defence, Mrs.
Berners, than here on the scene of the tragedy and the imputed crime."
The tone and manner of the lawyer were very cheerful, and at once
restored Sybil's composure.
"I have heard your explanation of the circu
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