So Elisabeth had to endure the agony which none but an artist can know--the agony of being dumb when one has an angel-whispered secret to tell forth--of being bound hand and foot when one has a God-sent message to write upon the wall.
Now and then Miss Maria took her young cousin up to town for a few weeks, and thus Elisabeth came to have a bowing acquaintanceship with London; but of London as an ever-fascinating, never-wearying friend she knew nothing.

There are people who tell us that "London is delightful in the season," and that "the country is very pretty in the summer," and we smile at them as a man would smile at those who said that his mother was "a pleasant person," or his heart's dearest "a charming girl." Those who know London and the country, as London and the country deserve to be known, do not talk in this way, for they have learned that there is no end to the wonder or the interest or the mystery of either.
The year following Richard Smallwood's break-down, a new interest came into Elisabeth's life.

A son and heir was born at the Moat House; and Elisabeth was one of the women who are predestined to the worship of babies.

Very tightly did the tiny fingers twine themselves round her somewhat empty heart; for Elisabeth was meant to love much, and at present her supply of the article was greatly in excess of the demand made upon it.

So she poured the surplus--which no one else seemed to need--upon the innocent head of Felicia's baby; and she found that the baby never misjudged her nor disappointed her, as older people seemed so apt to do.