despairing
interval of utter darkness, some gleam of daylight became visible to
him once more. I had feared that paralysis had seized the optic
nerve. A sort of mist remained for a long time, and indeed his
vision is not yet perfectly clear, but he can read, write, and walk
about, and he preaches _twice_ every Sunday, the curate only reading
the prayers. _You_ can well understand how earnestly I pray that
sight may be spared him to the end; he so dreads the privation of
blindness. His mind is just as strong and active as ever, and
politics interest him as they do _your_ papa. The Czar, the war, the
alliance between France and England--into all these things he throws
himself heart and soul. They seem to carry him back to his
comparatively young days, and to renew the excitement of the last
great European struggle. Of course, my father's sympathies, and mine
too, are all with justice and Europe against tyranny and Russia.

'Circumstanced as I have been, you will comprehend that I had neither
the leisure nor inclination to go from home much during the past
year. I spent a week with Mrs. Gaskell in the spring, and a
fortnight with some other friends more recently, and that includes
the whole of my visiting since I saw you last. My life is indeed
very uniform and retired, more so than is quite healthful either for
mind or body; yet I feel reason for often renewed feelings of
gratitude in the sort of support which still comes and cheers me from
time to time. My health, though not unbroken, is, I sometimes fancy,
rather stronger on the whole than it was three years ago; headache
and dyspepsia are my worst ailments. Whether I shall come up to town
this season for a few days I do not yet know; but if I do I shall
hope to call in Phillimore Place. With kindest remembrances to your
papa, mamma, and sisters,--I am, dear Laetitia, affectionately yours,

'C. BRONTE.'

Mr. Nicholls's successor did not prove acceptable to Mr. Bronte. He
complained again and again, and one day Charlotte turned upon her father
and told him pretty frankly that he was alone to blame--that he had only
to let her marry Mr. Nicholls, with whom she corresponded and whom she
really loved, and all would be well. A little arrangement, the transfer
of Mr. Nicholls's successor, Mr. De Renzi, to a Bradford church, and Mr.
Nicholls left