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brother’s death； or the present gloomy state of the family prospects。 Her mind seemed wholly taken up with reminiscences of past gaiety； and aspirations after dissipations to e。 She passed about five minutes each day in her mother’s sick…room； and no more。
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 mon 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 pany； no conversation。 I believe she was happy in her way： this routine sufficed for her； and nothing annoyed her so much as the occurrence of any incident which forced her to vary its clockwork regularity。
She told me one evening； when more disposed to be municative than usual； that John’s conduct； and the threatened ruin of the family； had been a source of profound affliction to her： but she had now； she said； settled her mind； and formed her resolution。 Her own fortune she had taken care to secure； and when her mother died—and it was wholly improbable； she tranquilly remarked； that she should either recover or linger long—she would execute a long…cherished project： seek a retirement where punctual habits would be permanently secured from disturbance； and place safe barriers between herself and a frivolous world。 I asked if Georgiana would acpany her。
“Of course not。 Georgiana and she had nothing in mon： they never had had。 She would not be burdened with her society for any consideration。 Georgiana should take her own course； and she； Eliza； would take hers。”
Georgiana； when not unburdening her heart to me； spent most of her time in lying on the sofa； fretting about the dulness of the house； and wishing over and over again that her aunt Gibson would send her an invitation up to town。 “It would be so much better；” she said； “if she could only get out of the way for a month or two； till all was over。” I did not ask what she meant by “all being over；” but I suppose she referred to the expected decease of her mother and the gloomy sequel of funeral rites。 Eliza generally took no more notice of her sister’s indolence and plaints than if no such murmuring； lounging object had been before her。 One day； however； as she put away her account…book and unfolded her embroidery； she suddenly took her up thus—
“Georgiana； a more vain and absurd animal than you was certainly never allowed to cumber the earth。 You had no right to be born； for you make no use of life。 Instead of living for； in； and with yourself； as a reasonable being ought； you seek only to fasten your feebleness on some other person’s strength： if no one can be found willing to burden her or himself with such a fat； weak； puffy； useless thing； you cry out that you are ill…treated； neglected； miserable。 Then； too； existence for you must be a scene of continual change and excitement； or else the world is a dungeon： you must be admired； you must be courted； you must be flattered—you must have music； dancing； and society—or you languish； you die away。 Have you no sense to devise a system which will make you independent of all efforts； and all wills； but your own？ Take one day； share it into sections； to each section apportion its task： leave no stray unemployed quarters of an hour； ten minutes； five minutes—include all； do each piece of business in its turn with method； with rigid regularity。 The day will close almost before you are aware it has begun； and you are indebted to no one for helping you to get rid of one vacant moment： you have had to seek no one’s pany； conversation； sympathy； forbearance； you have lived； in short； as an independent being ought to do。 Take this advice： the first and last I shall offer you； then you will not want me or any one else； happen what may。 Neglect it—go on as heretofore； craving； whining； and idling—and suffer the results of your idiocy； however bad and insuperable they may be。 I tell you this plainly； and listen： for though I shall no more repeat what I am now about to say； I shall steadily act on it。 After my mother’s death； I wash my hands of you： from the day her coffin is carried to the vault in Gateshead Church； you and I will be as separate as if we had never known each other。 You need not think that because we chanced to be born of the same parents； I shall suffer you to fasten me down by even the feeblest claim： I can tell you this—if the whole human race； ourselves excepted； were swept away； and we two stood alone on the earth； I would leave you in the old world； and betake myself to the new。”
She closed her lips。
“You might have spared yourself the trouble of delivering that tirade；” answered Georgiana。 “Everybody knows you are the most selfish； heartless creature in existence： and I know your spiteful hatred towards me： I have had a specimen of it before in the trick you played me about Lord Edwin Vere： you could not bear me to be raised above you； to have a title； to be received into circles where you dare not show your face； and so you acted the spy and informer； and ruined my prospects for ever。” Georgiana took out her handkerchief and blew her nose for an hour afterwards； Eliza sat cold； impassable； and assiduously industrious。
True； generous feeling is made small account of by some； but here were two natures rendered； the one intolerably acrid； the other despicably savourless for the want of it。 Feeling without judgment is a washy dra