"Dearest Henrietta and Arabel, ~ how I suffered that day ~ that miserable Saturday. . when I had to act a part to you ~ how I suffered!
Papa thinks that I have sold my soul ~ for genius. . . mere genius." [ Mr. Barrett never forgave or reconciled with his daughter]
". . .[Robert] sate by me for hours, pouring out floods of tenderness and goodness, and promising to win back for me, with God's help, the affection of such of you as were angry. And he loves me more and more. 'I kissed your feet, my Ba, before I married you ~ but now I would kiss the ground under your feet, I love you with a so much greater love.' And this is true, I see and feel. I feel to have the power of making him happy. . I feel to have it in my hands. It is strange that anyone so brilliant should love me, ~ but true and strange it is."
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