Margaret The Churchwoman, Her Father

I Could Wish There Were A God, If It Were Only To Ask Him To Bless Thee.

No One Loves Me, - No One Cares For Me, But You, Mother.

He Could Not Forget The Touch Of Her Arms Around His Neck, Impatiently Felt As It Had Been At The Time; But Now The Recollection Of Her Clinging Defence Of Him, Seemed To Thrill Him Through And Through,—to Melt Away Every Resolution, All Power Of Self-control, As If It Were Wax Before A Fire.

God Has Made Us So That We Must Be Mutually Dependent. We May Ignore Our Own Dependence, Or Refuse To Acknowledge That Others Depend Upon Us In More Respects Than The Payment Of Weekly Wages; But The Thing Must Be, Nevertheless. Neither You Nor Any Other Master Can Help Yourselves. The Most Proudly Independent Man Depends On Those Around Him For Their Insensible Influence On His Character - His Life.

He Had Tenderness In His Heart — ‘a Soft Place,’ As Nicholas Higgins Called It; But He Had Some Pride In Concealing It; He Kept It Very Sacred And Safe, And Was Jealous Of Every Circumstance That Tried To Gain Admission. But If He Dreaded Exposure Of His Tenderness, He Was Equally Desirous That All Men Should Recognize His Justice; And He Felt That He Had Been Unjust, In Giving So Scornful A Hearing To Anyone Who Had Waited, With Humble Patience, For Five Hours, To Speak To Him.