Now, the figure was placed in the middle for very excellent reasons, and in full consideration of those very principles which this expounder had been setting forth. But what yesterday would have puzzled her, now amused her one moment and irritated her the next. He took up a crayon. 'Shall I show you,' he asked, 'exactly what I mean?' 'If you please. Here is a piece of paper which will do.' He spoke in the style which Matthew Arnold so much admired--the Grand Style--the words clear and articulate, the emphasis just, the manner authoritative. 'I will just indicate your background,' he said, poising the pencil professionally--he looked as if the Grand Style really belonged to him--'in two or three strokes, and then I will sketch in your figure in the place--here--where it properly belongs. You will see immediately, though, of course--your eye--cannot----' He played with the chalk as one considering where to begin--but he did not begin. Armorel remembered a certain day when Roland gave her his first lesson, pencil in hand. Never was that pencil idle: it moved about of its own accord: it was drawing all the time: it seemed to be drawing out of its own head. Mr. Feilding, on the other hand, never touched the paper at all. His pencil was dumb and lifeless. But Armorel waited anxiously for him to begin. Now, at any rate, she should see if he could draw. She was disappointed. The clock on the overmantel suddenly struck six. Mr. Feilding dropped the crayon. 'Good heavens!' he cried. 'You make one forget everything, Miss Rosevean. We must put off the rest of this talk for another day. But you will persevere, dear young lady, will you not? Promise me that you will persevere. Even if the highest peak cannot be attained--we may not all reach that height--it is something to stand upon the lower slope, if it is only to recognise the greatness of those who are above and the depths below--how deep they are!--of the world which knows no art. Persevere--persevere! I will call again and help you, if I may.' He pressed her hand warmly, and departed. 'I really think,' said Zoe, 'that he believes you worth teaching, Armorel. I have never known him give so much time to any one girl before. And if you only knew how they flock about him!' 'Zoe,' said Armorel, without answering this remark, 'you have seen all Mr. Feilding's pictures, have you not?' 'I believe, all.' 'Do they all treat the same subject?' 'Up to the present, he has exhibited nothing but sea and coast pieces, headlands, low tide on the rocks, and so forth. Always with this black-haired girl--something like you, but not much more than a child.' 'Did you ever see him actually at work?' 'You mean working at an unfinished thing? No; never. He cannot endure anyone in his studio while he is at work.' 'Did he ever draw anything for you--any pen-and-ink sketch--pencil sketch? Have you got any of his sketches--rough things?'