On the following morning he found Miss Van Siever already seated in Mrs Broughton’s room when he reached it.  And at the moment Mrs Broughton was not there.  As he took Clara’s hand he could not prevent himself from asking her whether she had heard anything?  ‘Heard what?’ asked Clara.  ‘Then you have not,’ said he.  ’Never mind now, as Mrs Broughton is here.’  Then Mrs Broughton had entered the room.  She seemed to be quite cheerful, but Dalrymple perfectly understood, from a special glance which she gave to him, that he was to perceive that her cheerfulness was assumed for Clara’s benefit.  Mrs Broughton was showing how great a heroine she could be on behalf of her friends.  ‘Now, my dear,’ she said, ’do remember that this is the last day.  It may be very well, Conway, and, of course, you know best; but as far as I can see, you have not made half as much progress as you ought to have done.’  ’We shall do excellently well,’ said Dalrymple.  ‘So much the better,’ said Mrs Broughton; ‘and now, Clara, I’ll place you.’  And so Clara was placed on her knees, with the turban on her head.

Dalrymple began his work assiduously, knowing that Mrs Broughton would not leave the room for some minutes.  It was certain that she would remain for a quarter of an hour, and it might be as well that he should really use that time on the picture.  The peculiar position in which he was placed probably made his word difficult to him.  There was something perplexing in the necessity which bound him to look upon the young lady before him both as Jael and as the future Mrs Conway Dalrymple, knowing as he did that she was at present simply Clara Van Siever.  A double personification was not difficult to him.  He had encountered it with every model that had sat to him, and with every young lady he had attempted to win—­if he had ever made such an attempt with one before.  But the triple character joined to the necessity of the double work, was distressing to him.  ‘The hand a little further back, if you don’t mind,’ he said, ’and the wrist more turned towards me.  That is just it.  Lean a little more over him.  There—­that will do exactly.’  If Mrs Broughton did not go very quickly, he must begin to address his model on a totally different subject, even while she was in the act of slaying Sisera.

‘Have you made up your mind who is to be Sisera?’ asked Mrs Broughton.

‘Not in the least,’ said Clara, speaking without moving her face —­almost without moving her lips.

‘That will be excellent,’ said Mrs Broughton.  She was still quite cheerful, and really laughed as she spoke.  ’Shall you like the idea, Clara, of striking the nail right through his head?’

’Oh, yes; as well as his head’s as another’s.  I shall seem to be having my revenge for all the trouble he has given me.’

There was a slight pause, and then Dalrymple spoke.  ’You have had that already, in striking me right through the heart.’