are to be had in expensive seminaries, at little more than half their price; and as our number must be limited, we can devote a large share of time and pains to each pupil.  Thank you for the very pretty little purse you have sent me.  I make to you a curious return in the shape of half a dozen cards of terms.  Make such use of them as your judgment shall dictate.  You will see that I have fixed the sum at 35_l_., which I think is the just medium, considering advantages and disadvantages.”

This was written in July; August, September, and October passed away, and no pupils were to be heard of.  Day after day, there was a little hope felt by the sisters until the post came in.  But Haworth village was wild and lonely, and the Brontes but little known, owing to their want of connections.  Charlotte writes on the subject, in the early winter months, to this effect—­

“I, Emily, and Anne, are truly obliged to you for the efforts you have made in our behalf; and if you have not been successful, you are only like ourselves.  Every one wishes us well; but there are no pupils to be had.  We have no present intention, however, of breaking our hearts on the subject, still less of feeling mortified at defeat.  The effort must be beneficial, whatever the result may be, because it teaches us experience, and an additional knowledge of this world.  I send you two more circulars.”

A month later, she says:—­

“We have made no alterations yet in our house.  It would be folly to do so, while there is so little likelihood of our ever getting pupils.  I fear you are giving yourself too much trouble on our account.  Depend upon it, if you were to persuade a mamma to bring her child to Haworth, the aspect of the place would frighten her, and she would probably take the dear girl back with her, instanter.  We are glad that we have made the attempt, and we will not be cast down because it has not succeeded.”

There were, probably, growing up in each sister’s heart, secret unacknowledged feelings of relief, that their plan had not succeeded.  Yes! a dull sense of relief that their cherished project had been tried and had failed.  For that house, which was to be regarded as an occasional home for their brother, could hardly be a fitting residence for the children of strangers.  They had, in all likelihood, become silently aware that his habits were such as to render his society at times most undesirable.  Possibly, too, they had, by this time, heard distressing rumours concerning the cause of that remorse and agony of mind, which at times made him restless and unnaturally merry, at times rendered him moody and irritable.

In January, 1845, Charlotte says:—­“Branwell has been quieter and less irritable, on the whole, this time than he was in summer.  Anne is, as usual, always good, mild, and patient.”  The deep-seated pain which he was to occasion to his relations had now taken a decided form, and pressed heavily on Charlotte’s health and spirits.  Early in this year, she went to H. to bid good-bye to her dear friend “Mary,” who was leaving England for Australia.