he most
efficient way, but of training whatever force and originality his
character might possess. She paid a hundred and fifty pounds a year for
these invaluable services--in itself not a large stipend, but large in
proportion to her income. And Iris had never grudged the expenditure,
for in Dyce Lashmar she found, not merely a tutor for her son, but a
director of her own mind and conscience. Under Dyce's influence she had
read or tried to read--many instructive books; he had fostered, guided,
elevated her native enthusiasm; he had emancipated her soul. These, at
all events, were the terms in which Iris herself was wont to describe
the results of their friendship, and she was eminently a sincere woman,
ever striving to rise above the weakness, the disingenuousness, of her
sex.

"If you knew how it pains me!" she murmured, stealing a glance at
Lashmar. "But of course it won't make any difference--between us."

"Oh, I hope not. Why should it?" said Dyce, absently. "Now I'll tell
you something that has happened since I saw you last."

"Yes--yes--your own news! Oh, I'm afraid it is something bad!"

"Perhaps not. I rather think I'm at a crisis in my life--probably _the_
crisis. I shouldn't wonder if these things prove to have happened just
at the right time. My news is this. Things are going rather badly down
at the vicarage. There's serious diminution of income, which I knew
nothing about. And the end of it is, that I mustn't count on any more
supplies; they have no more money to spare for me. You see, I _am_
thoroughly independent."

He laughed; but Mrs. Woolstan gazed at him in dismay.

"Oh! Oh! How very serious! What a dreadful thing!"

"Pooh! Not at all. That's a very feminine way of talking."

"I'm afraid it is. I didn't mean to use such expressions. But
really--what are you going to do?"

"That'll have to be thought about."

Iris, with fluttering bosom, leaned forward.

"You'll talk it over with me? You'll treat me as a real friend--just
like a man friend? You know how often you have promised to."

"I shall certainly ask your advice."

"Oh! that's kind, that's good of you! We'll talk it over _very_
seriously."

How many hours had they spent in what Iris deemed "serious"
conversation? When Dyce stayed to luncheon, as he did about once a
week, the talk was often prolonged to tea-time. Subjects of
transcendent importance were discussed with the most hopeful amplitude.
Mrs. Woolstan could not be satisfi