'My name is unknown. I work on like a mole under ground. I am a Failure. You have seen Dick Stephenson. What did he say of me?' 'He said that you must have left off working. But you have not.' 'What does it matter how much or how long a Failure goes on working?' 'Have you lost heart, Roland?' 'Heart, and hope, and faith. Everything is lost, Armorel!' 'You have lost your courage because you have failed. But many men have failed at first--great men. Robert Browning failed for years. You were brave once, Roland. You were able to say that if you knew you were doing good work you cared nothing for the critics.' 'You see, Dick was right. I no longer do any work. I never send anything to the exhibitions.' 'But why--why--why?' 'Ask me no more questions, Armorel. Go away and leave me. How beautiful and glorious you have grown, child! But I knew you would. And I have gone down so low, and--and--well, you see! Yes. I remember how we talked of growing to our full height. We did not think, you see, of the depths to which we might also drop. There are awful depths, which you could never guess.' He sank into the chair, and his head dropped. Armorel stood over him, the tears gathering into her eyes. 'Roland,' she laid her hand upon his shoulder--there is no action more sisterly--'since I have found you I shall not let you go again. It is five years since you went away. You will tell me about yourself, when you please. I have a great deal to tell you. Don't you remember how sympathetic you used to be in the old days? I want a great deal more sympathy now, because I am five years older, and I am trying so much. I want you to hear me play--you were the first who ever praised my playing, you know. And you must see my drawings. I have worked every day, as I promised you I would. I have remembered all your instructions. Come and see your pupil's work, my master.' He made no reply. 'You live too much alone,' she went on. 'Dick Stephenson told me that you have given up your club, and that you go nowhere, and that no one knows how you live. You have dropped quite away from your old friends. Why did you do that? You live in this dismal room by yourself--alone with your thoughts: no wonder you lose courage and faith.' She opened the portfolio and drew out a number of the sketches. 'Why,' she said, 'here are some of those you made with me. Here is Castle Bryher--you in the boat, and I on the ledge among the sea-weed under the great rock--and the shags in a row on the top: and here is Porth Cressa--and here Peninnis--and here Round Island. Oh! we have so many things to talk about. Will you come to see me?' 'You had better leave me alone, Armorel,' he said. 'Even you can do no good to me now.'