"I assure you there is no such place."

"Not for anybody?"

"Not for anybody over twenty-one."

"I wish there was," said Elisabeth with a sigh. "I should have liked to
believe it was there, even if I had never found it."

"Don't be silly, lady mine. You are so great and wise and clever that I
can not bear to hear you say foolish things. And I want us to talk about
how you are going to help me to be a great painter, and how we will sit
together as gods, and create new worlds. There is nothing that I can not
do with you to help me, Elisabeth. You must be good to me and hard upon
me at the same time. You must never let me be content with anything
short of my best, or willing to do second-rate work for the sake of
money; you must keep the sacredness of art ever before my eyes, but you
must also be very gentle to me when I am weary, and very tender to me
when I am sad; you must encourage me when my spirit fails me, and
comfort me when the world is harsh. All these things you can do, and you
are the only woman who can. Promise me, Elisabeth, that you will."

"I can not promise anything now. You must let me think it over for a
time. I am so puzzled by it all. I thought that when the right man came
and told a woman that he loved her, she would know at once that it was
for him--and for him only--that she had been waiting all her life; and
that she would never have another doubt upon the subject, but would feel
convinced that it was settled for all time and eternity. And this is so
different!"

Again Cecil laughed his light laugh. "I suppose girls sometimes feel
like that when they are very young; but not women of your age,
Elisabeth."

"Well, you must let me think about it. I can not make up my mind yet."

And for whole days and nights Elisabeth thought about it, and could come
to no definite conclusion.

There was no doubt in her mind that she liked Cecil Farquhar infinitely
better than she had liked any of the other men who had asked her to
marry them; also that no one could possibly be more companionable to her
than he was, or more sympathetic with and interested in her work--and
this is no small thing to the man or woman who possesses the creative
faculty. Then she was lonely in her greatness, and longed for
companionship; and Cecil had touched her in her tenderest point by his
constant appeals to her to help and comfort him. Nevertheless the fact
remained that, though he interested her, he did not touch her he