"Thank you, I am not tired yet," 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 telling the truth? No, indeed." He was standing opposite to his easel, looking at the canvas, shifting his head about so as to change the lights, and observing critically this blemish and that; and yet he was all the while thinking how he had best carry out his purpose. "It will have been a prosperous picture to me," he said at last, "if it leads to the success of which I am ambitious."
"I am told that all you do is successful now,—merely because you do it. That is the worst of success."
"What is the worst of success?"
"That when won by merit it leads to further success, for the gaining of which no merit is necessary."
"I hope it may be so in my case. If it is not I shall have a very poor chance. Clara, I think you must know that I am not talking about my pictures."
"I thought you were."
"Indeed I am not. As for success in my profession, far as I am from thinking I merit it, I feel tolerably certain that I shall obtain it."
"You have obtained it."
"I am in the way to do so. Perhaps one out of ten struggling artists is successful, and for him the profession is very charming. It is
