l before her with wonder. What a strange
thing this love was, which could make a woman forgive such a letter as
that, and still cling to the man who wrote it! So there was such a place
as fairyland after all, and poor little Quenelda had found it; while
she, Elisabeth, had never so much as peeped through the gate. It had
brought Quenelda much sorrow, it was true; but still it was good to have
been there; and a chilly feeling crept across Elisabeth's heart as she
realized how much she had missed in life.

"I think if one loved another person as much as that," she said to
herself, "one would understand a little of how God feels about us."
Aloud she said: "Dear, what do you want me to do? I will do anything in
the world that you wish."

Quenelda seized Elisabeth's hand and kissed it. "How good you are! And I
don't deserve it a bit, for I've been horrid to you and said vile
things."

There was a vast pity in Elisabeth's eyes. "I did you a great wrong,
poor child!" she said; "and I want to make every reparation in my
power."

"But you didn't know you were doing me a great wrong."

"No; but I knew that I was acting below my own ideals, and nobody can do
that without doing harm. Show me how I can give you help now? Shall I
tell Cecil Farquhar that I know all?"

"Oh! no; please not. He would never forgive me for having spoiled his
life, and taken away his chance of being rich." And Quenelda's tears
flowed afresh.

Elisabeth put her strong arm round the girl's slim waist. "Don't cry,
dear; I will make it all right. I will just tell him that I can't marry
him because I don't love him; and he need never know that I have heard
about you at all."

And Elisabeth continued to comfort Quenelda until the pale cheeks grew
pink again, and half the girl's beauty came back; and she went away at
last believing in Elisabeth's power of setting everything right again,
as one believes in one's mother's power of setting everything right
again when one is a child.

After she had gone, Elisabeth sat down and calmly looked facts in the
face; and the prospect was by no means an agreeable one. Of course there
was no question now of marrying Cecil Farquhar; and in the midst of her
confusion Elisabeth felt a distinct sense of relief that this at any
rate was impossible. She could still go on believing in fairyland, even
though she never found it; and it is always far better not to find a
place than to find there is no such place at all. But