up; waiting, not impatiently; for he saw society of one kind (probably
what he called "life") at the Black Bull; and at home he was as yet the
cherished favourite.

Miss Branwell was unaware of the fermentation of unoccupied talent going
on around her. She was not her nieces' confidante--perhaps no one so
much older could have been; but their father, from whom they derived not
a little of their adventurous spirit, was silently cognisant of much of
which she took no note. Next to her nephew, the docile, pensive Anne was
her favourite. Of her she had taken charge from her infancy; she was
always patient and tractable, and would submit quietly to occasional
oppression, even when she felt it keenly. Not so her two elder sisters;
they made their opinions known, when roused by any injustice. At such
times, Emily would express herself as strongly as Charlotte, although
perhaps less frequently. But, in general, notwithstanding that Miss
Branwell might be occasionally unreasonable, she and her nieces went on
smoothly enough; and though they might now and then be annoyed by petty
tyranny, she still inspired them with sincere respect, and not a little
affection. They were, moreover, grateful to her for many habits she had
enforced upon them, and which in time had become second nature: order,
method, neatness in everything; a perfect knowledge of all kinds of
household work; an exact punctuality, and obedience to the laws of time
and place, of which no one but themselves, I have heard Charlotte say,
could tell the value in after-life; with their impulsive natures, it was
positive repose to have learnt implicit obedience to external laws.
People in Haworth have assured me that, according to the hour of day--nay,
the very minute--could they have told what the inhabitants of the
parsonage were about. At certain times the girls would be sewing in
their aunt's bedroom--the chamber which, in former days, before they had
outstripped her in their learning, had served them as a schoolroom; at
certain (early) hours they had their meals; from six to eight, Miss
Branwell read aloud to Mr. Bronte; at punctual eight, the household
assembled to evening prayers in his study; and by nine he, the aunt, and
Tabby, were all in bed,--the girls free to pace up and down (like
restless wild animals) in the parlour, talking over plans and projects,
and thoughts of what was to be their future life.

At the time of which I write, the favourite idea