s still a step further--namely, when
you become conscious that, strong as you are, there is something
stronger than yourself; and that is another person's influence upon
you."

"I have never felt that," said Elisabeth simply.

"Have you never known what it is to find your own individuality
swallowed up in other persons' individuality, and your own personality
merged in theirs, until--without the slightest conscious unselfishness
on your part--you cease to have a will of your own?"

"No; and I don't want to know it. I can understand wishing to share
one's own principalities and powers with another person; but I can't
understand being willing to share another person's principalities and
powers."

"In short," said Cecil, "you feel that you could love sufficiently to
give, but not sufficiently to receive; you would stamp your image and
superscription with pleasure upon another person's heart; but you would
allow no man to stamp his image and superscription upon yours."

"I suppose that is so," replied Elisabeth gravely; "but I never put it
as clearly to myself as that before. Yes," she went on after a moment's
pause; "I could never care enough for any man to give up my own will to
his; I should always want to bend his to mine, and the more I liked him
the more I should want it. He could have all my powers and possessions,
and be welcome to them; but my will must always be my own; that is a
kingdom I would share with no one."

"Ah! you are treating the question subjectively, as usual. Did it never
occur to you that you might have no say in the matter; that a man might
compel you, by force of his own charm or power or love for you, to give
up your will to his, whether you would or no?"

Elisabeth looked him full in the face with clear, grave eyes. "No; and I
hope I may never meet such a man as long as I live. I have always been
so strong, and so proud of my strength, and so sure of myself, that I
could never forgive any one for being stronger than I, and wresting my
dominion from me."

"Dear lady, you are a genius, and you have climbed to the summit of the
giddy pinnacle which men call success; but for all that, you are still
'an unlesson'd girl.' Believe me, the strong man armed will come some
day, and you will lower your flag and rejoice in the lowering."

"You don't understand me, after all," said Elisabeth reproachfully.

Cecil's smile was very pleasant. "Don't I? Yet it was I who painted The
Daughters of Phil