Her reproofs were like the fall of waterdrops on a stone, and infinite ages would have been needed to cause any positive impression.
February came to an end without sign or token from the outer world to disturb the even tenor of life at Fellside.

Mary read, and read, and read, till she felt she was made up of the contents of books, crammed with other people's ideas.

She read history, or natural science, or travels, or German poetry in the morning, and novels or English poetry in the evening.

She had pledged herself to devote her morning indoor hours to instructive literature, and to accomplish some portion of study in every day.

She was carrying on her education on parole, as before stated; and she was too honourable to do less than was expected from her.
March came in with its most leonine aspect, howling and blustering; north-east winds shrieking along the gorges and wailing from height to height.
'I wonder the lion and the lamb are not blown into the lake,' said Mary, looking at Helm Crag from the library window.
She scampered about the gardens in the very teeth of those bitter blasts, and took her shivering terriers for runs on the green slopes of the Fell.