Dalrymple thought for a moment about his picture and about Mrs Van Siever.  What had he better do?  He wanted to behave well, and he felt that the old woman had something of justice on her side.  ‘Madam,’ he said, ’I will not sell this picture; but it shall be destroyed, if you wish it.’

’I certainly do wish it, but I won’t trust you.  If it’s not sent to my house at once you’ll hear from me through my lawyers.’

Then Dalrymple deliberately opened his penknife and slit the canvas across, through the middle of the picture each way.  Clara, as she saw him do it, felt that in truth that she loved him.  ’There, Mrs Van Siever,’ he said; ’now you can take the bits home with you in your basket if you wish it.’  At this moment, as the rent canvas fell and fluttered upon the stretcher, there came a loud voice of lamentation from the sofa, a groan of despair and a shriek of wrath.  ’Very fine indeed,’ said Mrs Van Siever.  ’When ladies faint they always ought to have their eyes about them.  I see that Mrs Broughton understands that.’

‘Take her away, Conway—­for God’s sake take her away,’ said Mrs Broughton.

‘I shall take myself away very shortly,’ said Mrs Van Siever, ’so you needn’t trouble Mr Conway about that.  Not but that I thought the gentleman’s name was something else.’

‘My name is Conway Dalrymple,’ said the artist.

‘Then I suppose you must be her brother, or her cousin, or something.’

‘Take her away,’ screamed Mrs Dobbs Broughton.

’Wait a moment, madam.  As you’ve chopped up your handiwork there, Mr Conway Dalrymple, and as I suppose my daughter has been more to blame than anybody else—­’

‘She has not been to blame at all,’ said Dalrymple.

‘That’s my affair and not yours,’ said Mrs Van Siever, very sharply.  ’But as you’ve been at all this trouble, and have now chopped it up, I don’t mind paying you for your time and paints; only I shall be glad to know how much it will come to?’

‘There will be nothing to pay, Mrs Van Siever.’

‘How long has he been at it, Clara?’

‘Mamma, indeed you had better not say anything about paying him.’

‘I shall say whatever I please, miss.  Will ten pounds do it, sir?’

’If you choose to buy the picture, the price will be seven hundred and fifty,’ said Dalrymple with a smile, pointing to the fragments.

‘Seven hundred and fifty pounds?’ said the old woman.

‘But I strongly advise you not to make the purchase,’ said Dalrymple.

’Seven hundred and fifty pounds!  I certainly shall not give you seven hundred and fifty pounds.’

’I certainly think you could invest your money better, Mrs Van Siever.  But if the thing is to be sold at all, that is my price.  I’ve thought that there was some justice in your demand that it should be destroyed—­and therefore I have destroyed it.’

Mrs Van Siever had been standing on the same spot ever since she had entered the room, and now she turned round to leave the room.