Did he mean what he said? When he came away he used at this period to ask himself that question, and was astonished at the length he had gone. With any other girl in the world, he would have been taken at his word, and either encouraged to go on, or snubbed on the spot. But Iris received these advances as if they were a confession of weakness. "Why do you want me to encourage you?" she asked. "I know nothing about Art. Can't you encourage yourself, Arnold?" "Iris, I must tell you something more about myself. Will you listen for a moment? Well, I am the son of a clergyman who now holds a colonial appointment. I have got the usual number of brothers and sisters, who are doing the usual things. I will not bore you with details about them." "No," said Iris, "please do not." "I am the adopted son, or ward, or whatever you please, of a certain cousin. She is a single lady with a great income, which she promises to bequeath to me in the future. In the meantime, I am to have whatever I want. Do you understand the position, Iris?" "Yes, I think so. It is interesting, because it shows why you will never be a great artist. But it is very sad." "A man may rise above his conditions, Iris," said Arnold meekly. "No," she went on; "it is only the poor men who do anything good. Lala Roy says so." "I will pretend to be poor--indeed, I am poor. I have nothing. If it were not for my cousin, I could not even profess to follow Art." "What a pity," she said, "that you are rich! Lala Roy was rich once." Arnold repressed an inclination to desire that Lala Roy might be kept out of the conversation. "But he gave up all his wealth and has been happy, and a philosopher, ever since." "I can't give up my wealth, Iris, because I haven't got any--I owe my cousin everything. But for her, I should never even have known you." He watched her at her work in the morning when she sat patiently answering questions, working out problems, and making papers. She showed him the letters of her pupils, exacting, excusing, petulant--sometimes dissatisfied and even ill-tempered, he watched her in the afternoon while she sewed or read. In the evening he sat with her while the two old men played their game of chess. Regularly every evening at half-past nine the Bengalee checkmated Mr. Emblem. Up to that hour he amused himself with his opponent, formed ingenious combinations, watched openings, and gradually cleared the board until he found himself as the hour of half-past nine drew near, able to propose a simple problem to his own mind, such as, "White moves first, to mate in three, four, or five moves," and then he proceeded to solve that problem, and checkmated his adversary.