longer the family pride; an indistinct dread, caused partly by his
own conduct, partly by expressions of agonising suspicion in Anne's
letters home, was creeping over their minds that he might turn out their
deep disgrace. But, I believe, they shrank from any attempt to define
their fears, and spoke of him to each other as little as possible. They
could not help but think, and mourn, and wonder.

"Feb. 20th, 1845.

"I spent a week at H., not very pleasantly; headache, sickliness, and
flatness of spirits, made me a poor companion, a sad drag on the
vivacious and loquacious gaiety of all the other inmates of the house. I
never was fortunate enough to be able to rally, for as much as a single
hour, while I was there. I am sure all, with the exception perhaps of
Mary, were very glad when I took my departure. I begin to perceive that
I have too little life in me, now-a-days, to be fit company for any
except very quiet people. Is it age, or what else, that changes me so?"

Alas! she hardly needed to have asked this question. How could she be
otherwise than "flat-spirited," "a poor companion," and a "sad drag" on
the gaiety of those who were light-hearted and happy! Her honest plan
for earning her own livelihood had fallen away, crumbled to ashes; after
all her preparations, not a pupil had offered herself; and, instead of
being sorry that this wish of many years could not be realised, she had
reason to be glad. Her poor father, nearly sightless, depended upon her
cares in his blind helplessness; but this was a sacred pious charge, the
duties of which she was blessed in fulfilling. The black gloom hung over
what had once been the brightest hope of the family--over Branwell, and
the mystery in which his wayward conduct was enveloped. Somehow and
sometime, he would have to turn to his home as a hiding place for shame;
such was the sad foreboding of his sisters. Then how could she be
cheerful, when she was losing her dear and noble "Mary," for such a
length of time and distance of space that her heart might well prophesy
that it was "for ever"? Long before, she had written of Mary T., that
she "was full of feelings noble, warm, generous, devoted, and profound.
God bless her! I never hope to see in this world a character more truly
noble. She would die willingly for one she loved. Her intellect and
attainments are of the very highest standard." And this was the friend
whom she was to lose! Hear that friend's ac