Much weaker, diminished powers even of sight and hearing, and yet the child made no complaint--perhaps would have made none, even if she had not had that inducement to be silent, travelling by her side.

She felt a hopelessness of their ever being extricated together from that forlorn place; a dull conviction that she was very ill, perhaps dying; but no fear or anxiety.
A loathing of food that she was not conscious of until they expended their last penny in the purchase of another loaf, prevented her partaking even of this poor repast.

Her grandfather ate greedily, which she was glad to see.
Their way lay through the same scenes as yesterday, with no variety or improvement.

There was the same thick air, difficult to breathe; the same blighted ground, the same hopeless prospect, the same misery and distress.

Objects appeared more dim, the noise less, the path more rugged and uneven, for sometimes she stumbled, and became roused, as it were, in the effort to prevent herself from falling.