rhaps I ought not to blame others, but I
am grieved.

'Anne goes to Blake Hall on the 8th of April, unless some further
unseen cause of delay should occur. I've heard nothing more from
Mrs. Thos. Brook as yet. Papa wishes me to remain at home a little
longer, but I begin to be anxious to set to work again; and yet it
will be _hard work_ after the indulgence of so many weeks, to return
to that dreary "gin-horse" round.

'You ask me, my dear Ellen, whether I have received a letter from
Henry. I have, about a week since. The contents, I confess, did a
little surprise me, but I kept them to myself, and unless you had
questioned me on the subject, I would never have adverted to it.
Henry says he is comfortably settled at Donnington, that his health
is much improved, and that it is his intention to take pupils after
Easter. He then intimates that in due time he should want a wife to
take care of his pupils, and frankly asks me to be that wife.
Altogether the letter is written without cant or flattery, and in a
common-sense style, which does credit to his judgment.

'Now, my dear Ellen, there were in this proposal some things which
might have proved a strong temptation. I thought if I were to marry
Henry Nussey, his sister could live with me, and how happy I should
be. But again I asked myself two questions: Do I love him as much as
a woman ought to love the man she marries? Am I the person best
qualified to make him happy? Alas! Ellen, my conscience answered
_no_ to both these questions. I felt that though I esteemed, though
I had a kindly leaning towards him, because he is an amiable and
well-disposed man, yet I had not, and could not have, that intense
attachment which would make me willing to die for him; and, if ever I
marry, it must be in that light of adoration that I will regard my
husband. Ten to one I shall never have the chance again; but
_n'importe_. Moreover, I was aware that Henry knew so little of me
he could hardly be conscious to whom he was writing. Why, it would
startle him to see me in my natural home character; he would think I
was a wild, romantic enthusiast indeed. I could not sit all day long
making a grave face before my husband. I would laugh, and satirise,
and say whatever came into my head first. And if he were a clever
man, and loved me, t