It is one of my decided opinions that married people ought to have no one, be the tie ever so close and dear, living permanently with them, to break … - Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

Oh! my dear children, if you did but know how the heart instinctively turns from a sullen countenance — how hateful is that expression which some like to put on when they are ever so slightly offended, thinking it a point of honour not to smile or speak, but to look sulky for hours — how such a look changes the warmest love of parent, or sister, or friend, into dislike!

When, two years before the time of our story, the school was in want of a mistress, Winifred Lee had presented herself before the churchwardens, and asked for the situation. She won upon them so much with her meek ways, that they gave it to her without any questioning. Only after all was settled, one of them, glancing at her mourning dress and her wedding-ring, observed that of course she was a widow, and without children, as such only were eligible to the situation. Winifred Lee answered, “No; that she was not a widow.” While she spoke, her cheek crimsoned, and her eyes filled with tears. The churchwarden was a kindhearted man, and asked no further, but said cheerfully that rules were made to be broken, and, whether widow or not, she should be the schoolmistress still. And more than this no one in the parish knew of Winifred Lee. Nevertheless, she was generally liked, for she had always some little kindness ready for every one; and in her own school she was warmly beloved.

[It] was the first time in my life I ever knew the meaning of that rare thing, tenderness. A quality different from kindliness, affectionateness, or benevolence; a quality which can exist only in strong, deep, and undemonstrative natures, and therefore in its perfection is oftenest found in men.