misma, sus amores y sus penas. Era extraño que ni una sola vez aludiera a la enfermedad de su madre, ni a la muerte de su hermano, ni al actual sombrío estado de las perspectivas familiares. Su mente parecía completamente ocupada por reminiscencias de pasada algarabía y aspiraciones de diversiones futuras. Pasaba unos cinco minutos cada día en la habitación de su madre enferma, y nada más.
Eliza still spoke little: she had evidently no time to talk. I never saw a busier person than she seemed to be; yet it was difficult to say what she did: or rather, to discover any result of her diligence. She had an alarm to call her up early. I know not how she occupied herself before breakfast, but after that meal she divided her time into regular portions, and each hour had its allotted task. * Three times a day she studied a little book, which I found, on inspection, was a Common Prayer Book. I asked her once what was the great attraction of that volume, and she said, “the Rubric.” * Three hours she gave to stitching, with gold thread, the border of a square crimson cloth, almost large enough for a carpet. In answer to my inquiries after the use of this article, she informed me it was a covering for the altar of a new church lately erected near Gateshead. * Two hours she devoted to her diary; two to working by herself in the kitchen-garden; and one to the regulation of her accounts. She seemed to want no company; no conversation. I believe she was happy in her way: this routine sufficed