It is evident, that the womanly consciences of these two correspondents were anxiously alive to many questions discussed among the stricter religionists.  The morality of Shakspeare needed the confirmation of Charlotte’s opinion to the sensitive “E.;” and a little later, she inquired whether dancing was objectionable, when indulged in for an hour or two in parties of boys and girls.  Charlotte replies, “I should hesitate to express a difference of opinion from Mr. —–­, or from your excellent sister, but really the matter seems to me to stand thus.  It is allowed on all hands, that the sin of dancing consists not in the mere action of ‘shaking the shanks’ (as the Scotch say), but in the consequences that usually attend it; namely, frivolity and waste of time; when it is used only, as in the case you state, for the exercise and amusement of an hour among young people (who surely may without any breach of God’s commandments be allowed a little light-heartedness), these consequences cannot follow.  Ergo (according to my manner of arguing), the amusement is at such times perfectly innocent.”

Although the distance between Haworth and B—–­ was but seventeen miles, it was difficult to go straight from the one to the other without hiring a gig or vehicle of some kind for the journey.  Hence a visit from Charlotte required a good deal of pre-arrangement. The Haworth gig was not always to be had; and Mr. Bronte was often unwilling to fall into any arrangement for meeting at Bradford or other places, which would occasion trouble to others.  The whole family had an ample share of that sensitive pride which led them to dread incurring obligations, and to fear “outstaying their welcome” when on any visit.  I am not sure whether Mr. Bronte did not consider distrust of others as a part of that knowledge of human nature on which he piqued himself.  His precepts to this effect, combined with Charlotte’s lack of hope, made her always fearful of loving too much; of wearying the objects of her affection; and thus she was often trying to restrain her warm feelings, and was ever chary of that presence so invariably welcome to her true friends.  According to this mode of acting, when she was invited for a month, she stayed but a fortnight amidst “E.’s” family, to whom every visit only endeared her the more, and by whom she was received with that kind of quiet gladness with which they would have greeted a sister.

She still kept up her childish interest in politics.  In March, 1835, she writes:  “What do you think of the course politics are taking?  I make this enquiry, because I now think you take a wholesome interest in the matter; formerly you did not care greatly about it.  B., you see, is triumphant.  Wretch!  I am a hearty hater, and if there is any one I thoroughly abhor, it is that man.  But the Opposition is divided, Red-hots, and Luke-warms; and the Duke (par excellence the Duke) and Sir Robert Peel show no signs of insecurity, though they have been twice beat; so ‘Courage, mon amie,’ as the old chevaliers used to say, before they joined battle.”