In August 1842, her eldest sister, Mary Ann, became the wife of the Rev. Thomas Brumwell, a Wesleyan minister, and it was arranged that Eliza should spend a few months with the newly wedded pair at Melton Mowbray. On reviewing this period, three years after, she writes: “I have sat poring over works of history, and more frequently of fiction, till my aching eye-balls have refused their office; the solemn tones of the midnight bell, and occasionally, the light chimes of the third hour of morning have warned me to my little couch, while strange visions of enchanted castles, rocking images, ominous sounds, and wild apparitions, have disturbed my feverish repose, and unfitted me for the active duties of life. _Oh, these are painful reminiscences!_” She remained at Melton Mowbray about ten months, and after having benefited by the educational advantages at Tadcaster, entered Miss Rinders’ boarding-school at Leeds, in January, 1845. That lady relates this portion of Eliza’s school-days thus:—“I remember distinctly the morning she was introduced into the school-room. Little did I then think what an influence the new comer would acquire over my own mind and heart. She was shy and reserved at first, but susceptible of any advance towards friendliness, and eager to reciprocate the least kindness. It was not long before her position amongst us became clearly defined. Being one of the tallest girls, a degree of freedom was at once awarded her, but her mind soon asserted a superior claim. She was a most earnest and successful student; and it became a privilege to be admitted into her little coterie of inquirers after knowledge. At her suggestion, three or four of us rose at five o’clock every morning, and met in the library to read. The books chosen were generally such as aided in our after-studies. Sometimes they yielded more pleasure than profit, but the recollection of those morning meetings is very pleasant. During our walks, too, we read together, or when books were forbidden, Eliza was never at a loss for some topic of discussion. A flower, or an insect, often supplied us with a theme. Anything in nature called forth her deepest sympathies, and made her eloquent. She told me what a wild delight she used to feel, when a mere child, amidst the scenes of nature, rambling at her own sweet will for hours together with no companions but the bee and butterfly. The love of the beautiful became more intense as she grew older, and you will not wonder that she had also a decided tinge of the romantic at this time. Her young muse sung of deeds of daring, and the achievements of fame. She bowed at the shrine of genius, and made it almost her god.”