Every morning, when she woke, the vision of home and the moors rushed on her, and darkened and saddened the day that lay before her.  Nobody knew what ailed her but me.  I knew only too well.  In this struggle her health was quickly broken:  her white face, attenuated form, and failing strength, threatened rapid decline.  I felt in my heart she would die, if she did not go home, and with this conviction obtained her recall.  She had only been three months at school; and it was some years before the experiment of sending her from home was again ventured on.”

This physical suffering on Emily’s part when absent from Haworth, after recurring several times under similar circumstances, became at length so much an acknowledged fact, that whichever was obliged to leave home, the sisters decided that Emily must remain there, where alone she could enjoy anything like good health.  She left it twice again in her life; once going as teacher to a school in Halifax for six months, and afterwards accompanying Charlotte to Brussels for ten.  When at home, she took the principal part of the cooking upon herself, and did all the household ironing; and after Tabby grew old and infirm, it was Emily who made all the bread for the family; and any one passing by the kitchen-door, might have seen her studying German out of an open book, propped up before her, as she kneaded the dough; but no study, however interesting, interfered with the goodness of the bread, which was always light and excellent.  Books were, indeed, a very common sight in that kitchen; the girls were taught by their father theoretically, and by their aunt, practically, that to take an active part in all household work was, in their position, woman’s simple duty; but in their careful employment of time, they found many an odd five minutes for reading while watching the cakes, and managed the union of two kinds of employment better than King Alfred.

Charlotte’s life at Miss W—–­’s was a very happy one, until her health failed.  She sincerely loved and respected the former schoolmistress, to whom she was now become both companion and friend.  The girls were hardly strangers to her, some of them being younger sisters of those who had been her own playmates.  Though the duties of the day might be tedious and monotonous, there were always two or three happy hours to look forward to in the evening, when she and Miss W—–­ sat together—­sometimes late into the night—­and had quiet pleasant conversations, or pauses of silence as agreeable, because each felt that as soon as a thought or remark occurred which they wished to express, there was an intelligent companion ready to sympathise, and yet they were not compelled to “make talk.”