She was indefatigable, and it was all for him.
Now that she was going back, she was without this mainspring of hope--her old studies and pursuits wearied her.

To what end and for what purpose had been all her study, all her hard work?
He would never know of her proficiency; and she would not care to study for any other object than to please him.
"What am I to do with my life," she moaned.

"Mariana in the moated grange was not more to be pitied than I." How often the words occurred to her: "The day is dreary, 'He cometh not,' she said: She said, 'I am aweary, aweary, would that I were dead.'" It was one of the strangest, dullest, saddest lives that human being ever led.

That she wearied of it was no wonder.

She was tired of the sorrow, the suffering, the despair--so tired that after a time she fell ill; and then she lay longing for death..