"What have I ever done but claim from you that freedom you desire so passionately for others--freedom of conscience--freedom of judgment?
You denied me this freedom, though I asked it of you with all my soul.

And you denied me more.

Through these five weeks you have refused me the commonest right of love--the right to show you myself, to prove to you that through all this misery of differing opinion--misery, much more, oh, much more to me than to you!--I was in truth bent on the same ends with you, bearing the same burden, groping towards the same goal." "No! no!" she cried, turning upon him, and catching at a word; "what burden have you ever borne?
I know you were sorry--that there was a struggle in your mind--that you pitied me--pitied _them_.

But you judged it all _from above_--you looked down--and I could not see that you had any right.

It made me mad to have such things seen from a height, when I was below--in the midst--_close_ to the horror and anguish of them." "Whose fault was it," he interrupted, "that I was not with you?
Did I not offer--entreat?
I could not sign a statement of fact which seemed to me an untrue statement, but what prevented me--prevented us .-- However, let me take that point first.