The Last Chronicle of Barset

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XXXVIII.

  JAEL.

  On the first of March, Conway Dalrymple's easel was put up in Mrs.Dobbs Broughton's boudoir upstairs, the canvas was placed upon iton which the outlines of Jael and Sisera had been already drawn,and Mrs. Broughton and Clara Van Siever and Conway Dalrymple wereassembled with the view of steady art-work. But before we see howthey began their work together, we will go back for a moment to JohnEames on his return to his London lodgings. The first thing everyman does when he returns home after an absence, is to look at hisletters, and John Eames looked at his. There were not very many.There was a note marked immediate, from Sir Raffle Buffle, in whichSir R. had scrawled in four lines a notification that he should bedriven to an extremity of inconvenience if Eames were not at his postat half-past nine on the following morning. "I think I see myselfthere at that hour," said John. There was a notification of a housedinner, which he was asked to join, at his club, and a card for anevening gathering at Lady Glencora Palliser's,--procured for him byhis friend Conway,--and an invitation to dinner at the house of hisuncle, Mr. Toogood; and there was a scented note in the handwritingof a lady, which he did not recognize. "My nearest and dearestfriend, M. D. M.," he said, as he opened the note and looked at thesignature. Then he read the letter from Miss Demolines.

  MY DEAR MR. EAMES,

  Pray come to me at once. I know that you are to be back to-morrow. Do not lose an hour if you can help it. I shall be at home at half-past five. I fear what you know of has been begun. But it certainly shall not go on. In one way or another it must be prevented. I won't say another word till I see you, but pray come at once.

  Yours always,

  M. D. M.

  Thursday.

  Poor mamma isn't very well, so you had better ask for me.

  "Beautiful!" said Johnny, as he read the note. "There's nothing Ilike so much as a mystery,--especially if it's about nothing. Iwonder why she is so desperately anxious that the picture should notbe painted. I'd ask Dalrymple, only I should spoil the mystery." Thenhe sat himself down, and began to think of Lily. There could be notreason to Lily in his amusing himself with the freaks of such awoman as Miss Demolines.

  At eleven o'clock on the morning of the 1st of March,--the dayfollowing that on which Miss Demolines had written her note,--theeasel was put up and the canvas was placed on it in Mrs. Broughton'sroom. Mrs. Broughton and Clara were both there, and when they hadseen the outlines as far as it had been drawn, they proceeded to makearrangements for their future operations. The period of work was tobegin always at eleven, and was to be continued for an hour and ahalf or for two hours on the days on which they met. I fear thatthere was a little improper scheming in this against the two personswhom the ladies were bound to obey. Mr. Dobbs Broughton invariablyleft his house soon after ten in the morning. It would sometimeshappen, though not frequently, that he returned home early in theday,--at four perhaps, or even before that; and should he chance todo so while the picture was going on, he would catch them at theirwork if the work were postponed till after luncheon. And then again,Mrs. Van Siever would often go out in the morning, and when she didso, would always go without her daughter. On such occasions she wentinto the City, or to other resorts of business, at which, in somemanner quite unintelligible to her daughter, she looked after hermoney. But when she did not go out in the morning, she did go outin the afternoon, and she would then require her daughter's company.There was some place to which she always went of a Friday morning,and at which she stayed for two or three hours. Friday therefore wasa fitting day on which to begin the work at Mrs. Broughton's house.All this was explained between the three conspirators. Mrs. DobbsBroughton declared that if she entertained the slightest idea thather husband would object to the painting of the picture in her room,nothing on earth would induce her to lend her countenance to it; butyet it might be well not to tell him just at first, perhaps not tillthe sittings were over,--perhaps not till the picture was finished;as, otherwise, tidings of the picture might get round to ears whichwere not intended to hear it. "Poor dear Dobbs is so careless with asecret." Miss Van Siever explained her motives in a very differentway. "I know mamma would not let me do it if she knew it; andtherefore I shall not tell her." "My dear Clara," said Mrs. Broughtonwith a smile, "you are so outspoken!" "And why not?" said Miss VanSiever. "I am old enough to judge for myself. If mamma does not wantto be deceived, she ought not to treat me like a child. Of courseshe'll find it out sooner or later; but I don't care about that."Conway Dalrymple said nothing as the two ladies were thus excusingthemselves. "How delightful it must be not to have a master," saidMrs. Broughton, addressing him. "But then a man has to work for hisown bread," said he. "I suppose it comes about equal in the longrun."

  Very little drawing or painting was done on that day. In the firstplace it was necessary that the question of costume should besettled, and both Mrs. Broughton and the artist had much to say onthe subject. It was considered proper that Jael should be dressed asa Jewess, and there came to be much question how Jewesses dressedthemselves in those very early days. Mrs. Broughton had prepared herjewels and raiment of many colours, but the painter declared thatthe wife of Heber the Kenite would have no jewels. But when Mrs.Broughton discovered from her Bible that Heber had been connected byfamily ties with Moses, she was more than ever sure that Heber's wifewould have in her tent much of the spoilings of the Egyptians. Andwhen Clara Van Siever suggested that at any rate she would not haveworn them in a time of confusion when soldiers were loose, flyingabout the country, Mrs. Broughton was quite confident that she wouldhave put them on before she invited the captain of the enemy's hostinto her tent. The artist at last took the matter into his own handby declaring that Miss Van Siever would sit the subject much betterwithout jewels, and therefore all Mrs. Broughton's gewgaws were putback into their boxes. And then on four different times the twoladies had to retire into Mrs. Broughton's room in order that Jaelmight be arrayed in various costumes,--and in each costume she had tokneel down, taking the hammer in her hand, and holding the pointedstick which had been prepared to do duty as the nail, upon theforehead of a dummy Sisera. At last it was decided that her raimentshould be altogether white, and that she should wear, twisted roundher head and falling over her shoulder, a Roman silk scarf of variouscolours. "Where Jael could have gotten it I don't know," said Clara."You may be sure that there were lots of such things among theEgyptians," said Mrs. Broughton, "and that Moses brought away all thebest for his own family."

  "And who is to be Sisera?" asked Mrs. Broughton in one of the pausesin their work.

  "I'm thinking of asking my friend John Eames to sit."

  "Of course we cannot sit together," said Miss Van Siever.

  "There's no reason why you should," said Dalrymple. "I can do thesecond figure in my own room." Then there was a bargain made thatSisera should not be a portrait. "It would never do," said Mrs.Broughton, shaking her head very gravely.

  Though there was really very little done to the picture on that day,the work was commenced; and Mrs. Broughton, who had at first objectedstrongly to the idea, and who had said twenty times that it was quiteout of the question that it should be done in her house, became veryeager in her delight about it. Nobody should know anything of thepicture till it should be exhibited. That would be best. And itshould be the picture of the year! She was a little heart-broken whenDalrymple assured her that it could not possibly be finished forexhibition in that May; but she came to again when he declared thathe meant to put out all his strength upon it. "There will be five orsix months' work in it," he said. "Will there, indeed? And how muchwork was there in 'The Graces'?" "The Graces," as will perhaps beremembered, was the triple portrait of Mrs. Dobbs Broughton herself.This question the artist did not answer with absolute accuracy, butcontented himself with declaring that with such a model as Mrs.Broughton the picture had been comparatively easy.

  Mrs. Broughton, having no doubt that ultimate object of which she hadspoken to her friend Con
way steadily in view, took occasion beforethe sitting was over to leave the room, so that the artist might havean opportunity of speaking a word in private to his model,--if he hadany such word to speak. And Mrs. Broughton, as she did this, feltthat she was doing her duty as a wife, a friend, and a Christian. Shewas doing her duty as a wife, because she was giving the clearestproof in the world,--the clearest at any rate to herself,--that theintimacy between herself and her friend Conway had in it nothing thatwas improper. And she was doing her duty as a friend, because ClaraVan Siever, with her large expectations, would be an eligible wife.And she was doing her duty as a Christian, because the whole thingwas intended to be moral. Miss Demolines had declared that herfriend Maria Clutterbuck,--as Miss Demolines delighted to call Mrs.Broughton, in memory of dear old innocent days,--had high principles;and the reader will see that she was justified in her declaration."It will be better so," said Mrs. Broughton, as she sat upon her bedand wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Yes; it will be betterso. There is a pang. Of course there's a pang. But it will be betterso." Acting upon this high principle, she allowed Conway Dalrymplefive minutes to say what he had to say to Clara Van Siever. Then sheallowed herself to indulge in some very savage feelings in referenceto her husband,--accusing her husband in her thoughts of greatcruelty,--nay, of brutality, because of certain sharp words that hehad said as to Conway Dalrymple. "But of course he can't understand,"said Mrs. Broughton to herself. "How is it to be expected that heshould understand?"

  But she allowed her friend on this occasion only five minutes,thinking probably that so much time might suffice. A woman, when sheis jealous, is apt to attribute to the other woman with whom herjealousy is concerned, both weakness and timidity, and to the manboth audacity and strength. A woman who has herself taken perhapstwelve months in the winning, will think that another woman is tobe won in five minutes. It is not to be supposed that Mrs. DobbsBroughton had ever been won by any one except by Mr. Dobbs Broughton.At least, let it not be supposed that she had ever acknowledged aspark of love for Conway Dalrymple. But nevertheless there was enoughof jealousy in her present mood to make her think poorly of MissVan Siever's capacity for standing a siege against the artist'seloquence. Otherwise, having left the two together with the objectwhich she had acknowledged to herself, she would hardly have returnedto them after so very short an interval.

  "I hope you won't dislike the trouble of all this?" said Dalrymple tohis model, as soon as Mrs. Broughton was gone.

  "I cannot say that I like it very much," said Miss Van Siever.

  "I'm afraid it will be a bore;--but I hope you'll go through withit."

  "I shall if I am not prevented," said Miss Van Siever. "When I'vesaid that I'll do a thing, I like to do it."

  There was a pause in the conversation which took up a considerableportion of the five minutes. Miss Van Siever was not holding her nailduring these moments, but was sitting in a commonplace way on herchair, while Dalrymple was scraping his palette. "I wonder what itwas that first induced you to sit?" said he.

  "Oh, I don't know. I took a fancy for it."

  "I'm very glad you did take the fancy. You'll make an excellentmodel. If you won't mind posing again for a few minutes--I will notweary you to-day. Your right arm a little more forward."

  "But I should tumble down."

  "Not if you lean well on to the nail."

  "But that would have woken Sisera before she had struck a blow."

  "Never mind that. Let us try it." Then Mrs. Broughton returned, withthat pleasant feeling in her bosom of having done her duty as a wife,a friend, and a Christian. "Mrs. Broughton," continued the painter,"just steady Miss Van Siever's shoulder with your hand; and now bringthe arm and the elbow a little more forward."

  "But Jael did not have a friend to help her in that way," said MissVan Siever.

  At the end of an hour and a half the two ladies retired, and Jaeldisrobed herself, and Miss Van Siever put on her customary raiment.It was agreed among them that they had commenced their workauspiciously, and that they would meet again on the following Monday.The artist begged to be allowed an hour to go on with his work inMrs. Broughton's room, and the hour was conceded to him. It wasunderstood that he could not take the canvas backwards and forwardswith him to his own house, and he pointed out that no progresswhatever could be made, unless he were occasionally allowed somesuch grace as this. Mrs. Broughton doubted and hesitated, madedifficulties, and lifted up her hands in despair. "It is easy foryou to say, Why not? but I know very well why not." But at last shegave way. "Honi soit qui mal y pense," she said; "that must be myprotection." So she followed Miss Van Siever downstairs, leaving Mr.Dalrymple in possession of her boudoir. "I shall give you just onehour," she said, "and then I shall come and turn you out." So shewent down, and, as Miss Van Siever would not stay to lunch with her,she ate her lunch by herself, sending a glass of sherry and a biscuitup to the poor painter at his work.

  Exactly at the end of the hour she returned to him. "Now, Conway, youmust go," she said.

  "But why in such a hurry?"

  "Because I say that it must be so. When I say so, pray let that besufficient." But still Dalrymple went on working. "Conway," she said,"how can you treat me with so much disdain?"

  "Disdain, Mrs. Broughton!"

  "Yes, disdain. Have I not begged you to understand that I cannotallow you to remain here, and yet you pay no attention to my wishes."

  "I have done now;" and he began to put his brushes and paintstogether. "I suppose all these things may remain here?"

  "Yes; they may remain. They must do so, of course. There; if you willput the easel in the corner, with the canvas behind it, they will notbe seen if he should chance to come into the room."

  "He would not be angry, I suppose, if he saw them?"

  "There is no knowing. Men are so unreasonable. All men are, I think.All those are whom I have had the fortune to know. Women generallysay that men are selfish. I do not complain so much that they areselfish as that they are thoughtless. They are headstrong and do notlook forward to results. Now you,--I do not think you would willinglydo me an injury?"

  "I do not think I would."

  "I am sure you would not;--but yet you would forget to save me fromone."

  "What injury?"

  "Oh, never mind. I am not thinking of anything in particular. Frommyself, for instance. But we will not talk about that. That waymadness lies. Tell me, Conway;--what do you think of Clara VanSiever?"

  "She is very handsome, certainly."

  "And clever?"

  "Decidedly clever. I should think she has a temper of her own."

  "What woman is there worth a straw that has not? If Clara Van Sieverwere ill-used, she would resent it. I do not doubt that for a moment.I should not like to be the man who would do it."

  "Nor I, either," said Conway.

  "But there is plenty of feminine softness in that character, if shewere treated with love and kindness. Conway, if you will take myadvice you will ask Clara Van Siever to be your wife. But perhaps youhave already."

  "Who; I?"

  "Yes; you."

  "I have not done it yet, certainly, Mrs. Broughton."

  "And why should you not do it?"

  "There are two or three reasons;--but perhaps none of any greatimportance. Do you know of none, Mrs. Broughton?"

  "I know of none," said Mrs. Broughton in a very serious,--in almost atragic tone;--"of none that should weigh for a moment. As far as I amconcerned, nothing would give me more pleasure."

  "That is so kind of you!"

  "I mean to be kind. I do, indeed, Conway. I know it will be betterfor you that you should be settled,--very much better. And it will bebetter for me. I do not mind admitting that;--though in saying so Itrust greatly to your generosity to interpret my words properly."

  "I shall not flatter myself, if you mean that."

  "There is no question of flattery, Conway. The question is simply oftruth and prudence. Do you not know that it would be better that you
should be married?"

  "Not unless a certain gentleman were to die first," said ConwayDalrymple, as he deposited the last of his painting paraphernalia inthe recess which had been prepared for them by Mrs. Broughton.

  "Conway, how can you speak in that wicked, wicked way!"

  "I can assure you I do not wish the gentleman in question theslightest harm in the world. If his welfare depended on me, he shouldbe as safe as the Bank of England."

  "And you will not take my advice?"

  "What advice?"

  "About Clara?"

  "Mrs. Broughton, matrimony is a very important thing."

  "Indeed, it is;--oh, who can say how important! There was a time,Conway, when I thought you had given your heart to MadalinaDemolines."

  "Heaven forbid!"

  "And I grieved, because I thought that she was not worthy of you."

  "There was never anything in that, Mrs. Broughton."

  "She thought that there was. At any rate, she said so. I know thatfor certain. She told me so herself. But let that pass. Clara VanSiever is in every respect very different from Madalina. Clara, Ithink, is worthy of you. And Conway,--of course it is not for meto dictate to you; but this I must tell you--" Then she paused, asthough she did not know how to finish her sentence.

  "What must you tell me?"

  "I will tell you nothing more. If you cannot understand what I havesaid, you must be more dull of comprehension than I believe you tobe. Now go. Why are you not gone this half-hour?"

  "How could I go while you were giving me all this good advice?"

  "I have not asked you to stay. Go now, at any rate. And, remember,Conway, if this picture is to go on, I will not have you remaininghere after the work is done. Will you remember that?" And she heldhim by the hand while he declared that he would remember it.

  Mrs. Dobbs Broughton was no more in love with Conway Dalrymple thanshe was in love with King Charles on horseback at Charing Cross.And, over and beyond the protection which came to her in the courseof nature from unimpassioned feelings in this special phase of herlife,--and indeed, I may say, in every phase of her life,--it must beacknowledged on her behalf that she did enjoy that protection whichcomes from what we call principle,--though the principle was notperhaps very high of its kind. Madalina Demolines had been right whenshe talked of her friend Maria's principles. Dobbs Broughton had beenso far lucky in that jump in the dark which he had made in taking awife to himself, that he had not fallen upon a really vicious woman,or upon a woman of strong feeling. If it had come to be the lot ofMrs. Dobbs Broughton to have six hours' work to do every day of herlife, I think that the work would have been done badly, but that itwould have kept her free from all danger. As it was she had nothingto do. She had no child. She was not given to much reading. She couldnot sit with a needle in her hand all day. She had no aptitude forMay meetings, or the excitement of charitable good works. Life withher was very dull, and she found no amusement within her reach soeasy and so pleasant as the amusement of pretending to be in love. Ifall that she did and all that she said could only have been taken forits worth and for nothing more, by the different persons concerned,there was very little in it to flatter Mr. Dalrymple or to give causefor tribulation to Mr. Broughton. She probably cared but little foreither of them. She was one of those women to whom it is not given bynature to care very much for anybody. But, of the two, she certainlycared the most for Mr. Dobbs Broughton,--because Mr. Dobbs Broughtonbelonged to her. As to leaving Mr. Dobbs Broughton's house, andputting herself into the hands of another man,--no Imogen of a wifewas ever less likely to take a step so wicked, so dangerous, and sogenerally disagreeable to all the parties concerned.

  But Conway Dalrymple,--though now and again he had got a side glanceat her true character with clear-seeing eyes,--did allow himself tobe flattered and deceived. He knew that she was foolish and ignorant,and that she often talked wonderful nonsense. He knew also that shewas continually contradicting herself,--as when she would strenuouslybeg him to leave her, while she would continue to talk to himin a strain that prevented the possibility of his going. But,nevertheless, he was flattered, and he did believe that she lovedhim. As to his love for her,--he knew very well that it amounted tonothing. Now and again, perhaps twice a week, if he saw her as often,he would say something which would imply a declaration of affection.He felt that as much as that was expected from him, and that heought not to hope to get off cheaper. And now that this littleplay was going on about Miss Van Siever, he did think that Mrs.Dobbs Broughton was doing her very best to overcome an unfortunateattachment. It is so gratifying to a young man's feelings to supposethat another man's wife has conceived an unfortunate attachment forhim! Conway Dalrymple ought not to have been fooled by such a woman;but I fear that he was fooled by her.

  As he returned home to-day from Mrs. Broughton's house to his ownlodgings he rambled out for a while into Kensington Gardens, andthought of his position seriously. "I don't see why I should notmarry her," he said to himself, thinking of course of Miss VanSiever. "If Maria is not in earnest it is not my fault. And it wouldbe my wish that she should be in earnest. If I suppose her to be so,and take her at her word, she can have no right to quarrel with me.Poor Maria! at any rate it will be better for her, for no good cancome of this kind of thing. And, by heavens, with a woman like that,of strong feelings, one never knows what may happen." And then hethought of the condition he would be in, if he were to find her somefine day in his own rooms, and if she were to tell him that she couldnot go home again, and that she meant to remain with him!

  In the meantime Mrs. Dobbs Broughton had gone down into her owndrawing-room, had tucked herself up on the sofa, and had fallen fastasleep.