more than some.  She said she did not know how people could bear the constant pressure of misery, and never to change except to a new form of it.  It would be impossible to keep one’s natural feelings.  I promised her a better destiny than to go begging any one to marry her, or to lose her natural feelings as a sister of charity.  She said, ’My youth is leaving me; I can never do better than I have done, and I have done nothing yet.’  At such times she seemed to think that most human beings were destined by the pressure of worldly interests to lose one faculty and feeling after another ’till they went dead altogether.  I hope I shall be put in my grave as soon as I’m dead; I don’t want to walk about so.’  Here we always differed.  I thought the degradation of nature she feared was a consequence of poverty, and that she should give her attention to earning money.  Sometimes she admitted this, but could find no means of earning money.  At others she seemed afraid of letting her thoughts dwell on the subject, saying it brought on the worst palsy of all.  Indeed, in her position, nothing less than entire constant absorption in petty money matters could have scraped together a provision.

“Of course artists and authors stood high with Charlotte, and the best thing after their works would have been their company.  She used very inconsistently to rail at money and money-getting, and then wish she was able to visit all the large towns in Europe, see all the sights and know all the celebrities.  This was her notion of literary fame,—­a passport to the society of clever people . . .  When she had become acquainted with the people and ways at Brussels her life became monotonous, and she fell into the same hopeless state as at Miss W—–­’s, though in a less degree.  I wrote to her, urging her to go home or elsewhere; she had got what she wanted (French), and there was at least novelty in a new place, if no improvement.  That if she sank into deeper gloom she would soon not have energy to go, and she was too far from home for her friends to hear of her condition and order her home as they had done from Miss W—–­’s.  She wrote that I had done her a great service, that she should certainly follow my advice, and was much obliged to me.  I have often wondered at this letter.  Though she patiently tolerated advice, she could always quietly put it aside, and do as she thought fit.  More than once afterwards she mentioned the ‘service’ I had done her.  She sent me 10_l_. to New Zealand, on hearing some exaggerated accounts of my circumstances, and told me she hoped it would come in seasonably; it was a debt she owed me ‘for the service I had done her.’  I should think 10_l_. was a quarter of her income.  The ‘service’ was mentioned as an apology, but kindness was the real motive.”

The first break in this life of regular duties and employments came heavily and sadly.  Martha—­pretty, winning, mischievous, tricksome Martha—­was taken ill suddenly at the Chateau de Koekelberg.  Her sister tended her with devoted love; but it was all in vain; in a few days she died.  Charlotte’s own short account of this event is as follows:—­