What a tiny little girl you were when they took you away from me! Ah! why did not all my girls remain little! Ay, ay! how poor people's daughters do grow up to be sure! Every time a poor man's daughters grow up he has more cause for sorrow than for joy.
What will become of them?
who will bring them up?
Nowadays nobody cares about marrying.

Trade brings in less and less, the expenses of housekeeping increase every day, and if a girl here and there does marry after all, what does she gain by it?
Why, a worthless sot of a husband, and a life of misery, care, and anxiety.

She'll go from bad to worse, have to slave like a maid-of-all-work, be saddled with a lot of wicked children, and when she gets old they'll pitch her into the street.

Ay, ay! the best thing a mother could do for her daughter when it is born would be to bury it!" Thus she emphasized, for the girl's benefit, all the difficulties of marriage, and laid stress upon the more disagreeable features of domestic life.

And the girl knew quite well why she spoke to her in this way, for that one word, "How beautiful you are!" had suddenly enlightened her mind, and she also began to entertain the suspicion which, by the way, Teresa had never dared to communicate, that her mother had come to her as a tempter.
"Are you cold, Fanny ?" "No," stammered the girl, huddling up beneath the bed-clothes.
"I thought I heard you shiver." "No, I didn't." "You used to know Rezi Halm, didn't you ?" "Yes," faltered Fanny, in a low voice, wondering what was coming next, and what fresh attack was going to be made upon her.
"What a proud girl she was, eh?
The whole lot of them were so proud--you remember, surely ?--they were neighbours, you know.