drew. Jael, who in those
moments would be thinking more of the fatigue of her position than
of anything else, did not at all take home to herself the peculiar
meaning of her friend's words. Conway Dalrymple understood them
thoroughly, and thought that he might as well take the advice given
to him. He had made up his mind to propose to Miss Van Siever, and
why should he not do so now? He went on with his brush for a couple
of minutes without saying a word, working as well as he could work,
and then resolved that he would at once begin the other task. "Miss
Van Siever," he said, "I am afraid you are tired?"

"Not more than usually tired. It is fatiguing to be slaying Sisera by
the hour together. I do get to hate this block." The block was the
dummy by which the form of Sisera was supposed to be typified.

"Another sitting will about finish it," said he, "so that you need
not positively distress yourself now. Will you rest yourself for a
minute or two?" He had already perceived that the attitude in which
Clara was posed before him was not one in which an offer of marriage
could be received and replied to with advantage.

"Thank you, I am not tired," said Clara, not changing the fixed
glance of national wrath with which she regarded her wooden Sisera as
she held her hammer on high.

"But I am. There; we will rest for a moment." Dalrymple was aware
that Mrs. Dobbs Broughton, though she was very assiduous in piling her
fagots, never piled them for long together. If he did not make haste
she would be back upon them before he could get his word spoken. When
he put down his brush, and got up from his chair, and stretched out
his arm as a man does when he ceases for a moment from his work,
Clara of course got up also, and seated herself. She was used to her
turban and her drapery, and therefore thought not of it at all; and
he also was used to it, seeing her in it two or three times a week;
but now that he intended to accomplish a special purpose, the turban
and the drapery seemed to be in the way. "I do so hope you will like
the picture," he said, as he was thinking of this.

"I don't think I shall. But you will understand that it is natural
that a girl should not like herself in such a portraiture as that."

"I don't know why. I can understand that you specially should not
like the picture; but I think that most women in London in your place
would at any rate say that they did."

"Are you angry with me?"

"What; for t