One of these days you will feel a tender pity, when you think of your mother's girlhood.

You are learning how she lived at your age.

I trembled at the prosperity of your opening life, and believed it best for you to have a period of contrast.

I thought you would, by and by, understand me better than I do myself; for you are not like me, Cassy, you are like your father.

You shall never go back to Barmouth, unless you wish it.