Her marriage to Gabriel was based on hope that quickly disintegrated. When he courted her, she saw him more as she wanted him to be than he really was. Elizabeth initially viewed Gabriel's strength — which later turned into domination — as salvation, thinking that he could redeem her and again make her a woman worthy of being a wife. Instead, Elizabeth finds herself with a physically and verbally abusive husband, someone more to be feared than loved. Her son John sees her now as a woman who never laughs and who has "dark hard lines running downward from her eyes, and the deep perpetual scowl in her forehead, and the down turned tightened mouth" — a far different description than the prancing girl who postured like a queen.
To her children, Elizabeth is a trusted and loving caregiver, but something of an enigma, especially to John. He understands that she speaks in a code that he does not understand; he also knows that her words have more meaning to her than they convey. Roy enjoys the arguments that he and his mother share over the breakfast table when his father is not home, but he does not understand why he can speak openly about his feelings with his mother but not with his father. That Elizabeth loves her children is obvious, but what is equally obvious is that, resigned to her life as she is, she is powerless to protect them.
The events that shape her character are significant not only in their own rite but also because they serve to illustrate how Elizabeth's separation from her father was an ongoing process, not just an immediate change in location, but a mental detachment and, finally, an ideological break as well. Her father had told her, "if one had to die, to go ahead and die, but never let oneself be beaten." But Elizabeth has been beaten — and beaten down.
