asunder, you must pay in sorrow for our sins! From hatred have you sprung, and in the home of hatred have you been reared; harsh tongues have clashed their discords around you, and hard glances fenced above your head; we have fought over you as wolves quarrel over a bone. What can save you from coming unhappiness? What disposition can you bring into the future from this home that is killing your child soul? What do you inherit from us to enable you to find joy? Your father's evil passions, his love of wine, and my evil thoughts in you?
A man and his wife must be all to one another or nothing—there is no middle course. Yet if I thought he loved me, I could bear so much from him. If he would put his arms around me to-night, I could forget all my hate, all the dreary years past, all the harsh words, even the cruel grip of his hands. Oh, a woman's home is her castle if she holds her husband's heart, and he stand by her; let the world storm her gates with jeers and insults, she is safe and happy. But if her husband turn against her and shut her from his heart, though all the world protect her, she is alone
