spect, and submission to the one who is as much above
the other as the heavens are above the earth? But as one cannot serve two
masters together, will not the master who prepares and fits her for an
eternal life of glory, certainly be the object of her constant, real, and
most ardent love, gratitude, and respect, when the worldly and sinful man
to whom she is married will have _only_ the appearance or the crumbs of
those sentiments? Will she not, naturally, instinctively serve, love,
respect, and obey, as lord and master, the godly man whose yoke is so
light, so holy, so divine, rather than the carnal man whose human
imperfections are to her a source of daily trial and suffering?

In the Church of Rome the thoughts and desires, the secret joys and fears
of the soul, the very life of the wife, are sealed things to the husband.
He has no right to look into the sanctuary of her heart; he has no remedy
to apply to the soul; he has no mission from God to advise her in the dark
hours of her anxieties; he has no balm to apply to the bleeding wounds, so
often received in the daily battles of life; he must remain a perfect
stranger in his own house.

The wife, expecting nothing from her husband, has no revelation to make to
him, no favour to ask, no debt of gratitude to pay. Nay, she shuts all the
avenues of her soul, all the doors and windows of her heart, against her
husband. The priest, and the priest alone, has a right to her entire
confidence; to him, and him alone, she will go and reveal all her secrets,
show all her wounds; to him, and him alone, she will turn her mind, her
heart and soul, in the hour of trouble and anxiety; from him, and him
alone, she will ask and expect the light and consolation she wants. Every
day, more and more, her husband will become as a stranger to her, if he
does not become a real nuisance, and an obstacle to her happiness and
peace.

Yes, through the confessional, an unfathomable abyss has been dug, by the
Church of Rome, between the heart of the wife and the heart of the husband!
Their bodies may be very near each other, but their souls, their real
affections and their confidence, are at greater distance than the north is
from the south pole of the earth. The confessor is the master, the ruler,
the king of the soul; the husband, as the grave-yard keeper, must be
satisfied with the carcase!

The husband has the permission to look on the outside of the palace; he is
allowed to rest his head