My bedroom just what it was.

My mother's bedroom.

I had never been in it since her death.

I went away sad."] While warmly attached to all his nearest relations, Macaulay lived in the closest and most frequent companionship with his sisters Hannah and Margaret, younger than himself by ten and twelve years respectively.
His affection for these two, deep and enduring as it was, had in it no element of blindness or infatuation.

Even in the privacy of a diary, or the confidence of the most familiar correspondence, Macaulay, when writing about those whom he loved, was never tempted to indulge in fond exaggeration of their merits.