One of her daily employments was to read to her father, and it required a little gentle diplomacy on her part to effect this duty; for there were times when the offer of another to do what he had been so long accustomed to do for himself, only reminded him too painfully of the deprivation under which he was suffering.  And, in secret, she, too, dreaded a similar loss for herself.  Long-continued ill health, a deranged condition of the liver, her close application to minute drawing and writing in her younger days, her now habitual sleeplessness at nights, the many bitter noiseless tears she had shed over Branwell’s mysterious and distressing conduct—­all these causes were telling on her poor eyes; and about this time she thus writes to M. Heger:—­

“Il n’y a rien que je crains comme le desoeuvrement, l’inertie, la lethargie des facultes.  Quand le corps est paresseux l’esprit souffre cruellement; je ne connaitrais pas cette lethargie, si je pouvais ecrire.  Autrefois je passais des journees, des semaines, des mois entiers a ecrire, et pas tout-a-fait sans fruit, puisque Southey et Coleridge, deux de nos meilleurs auteurs, a qui j’ai envoye certains manuscrits, en ont bien voulu temoigner leur approbation; mais a present, j’ai la vue trop faible; si j’ecrivais beaueoup je deviendrais aveugle.  Cette faiblesse de vue est pour moi une terrible privation; sans cela, savez-vous ce que je ferais, Monsieur?  J’ecrirais un livre et je le dedierais a mon maitre de litterature, au seul maitre que j’aie jamais eu—­a vous, Monsieur!  Je vous ai dit souvent en francais combien je vous respecte, combien je suis redevable a votre bonte, a vos conseils.  Je voudrais le dire une fois en anglais.  Cela ne se peut pas; il ne faut pas y penser.  La carriere des lettres m’est fermee . . .  N’oubliez pas de me dire comment vous vous portez, comment Madame et les enfants se portent.  Je compte bientot avoir de vos nouvelles; cette idee me souris, car le souvenir de vos bontes ne s’effacera jamais de ma memoire, et tant que ce souvenir durera, le respect que vous m’avez inspire durera aussi.  Agreez, Monsieur,” &c.

It is probable, that even her sisters and most intimate friends did not know of this dread of ultimate blindness which beset her at this period.  What eyesight she had to spare she reserved for the use of her father.  She did but little plain-sewing; not more writing than could be avoided, and employed herself principally in knitting.

“April 2nd, 1845.

“I see plainly it is proved to us that there is scarcely a draught of unmingled happiness to be had in this world. —–­’s illness comes with —–­ ’s marriage.  Mary T. finds herself free, and on that path to adventure and exertion to which she has so long been seeking admission.  Sickness, hardship, danger are her fellow travellers—­her inseparable companions.  She may have been out of the reach of these S. W. N. W. gales, before they began to blow, or they may have