_I_, however,
in the solitude of our wild little hill village, think of my only
unrelated friend, my dear ci-devant school companion daily--nay,
almost hourly. Now Ellen, don't you think I have very cleverly
contrived to make up a letter out of nothing? Goodbye, dearest.
That God may bless you is the earnest prayer of your ever faithful
friend,
'CHARLOTTE BRONTE.'
TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY
'HAWORTH, _November_ 10_th_, 1834.
'DEAR ELLEN,--I have been a long while, a very long while without
writing to you. A letter I received from Mary Taylor this morning
reminded me of my neglect, and made me instantly sit down to atone
for it, if possible. She tells me your aunt, of Brookroyd, is dead,
and that Sarah is very ill; for this I am truly sorry, but I hope her
case is not yet without hope. You should however remember that
death, should it happen, will undoubtedly be great gain to her. In
your last, dear Ellen, you ask my opinion respecting the amusement of
dancing, and whether I thought it objectionable when indulged in for
an hour or two in parties of boys and girls. I should hesitate to
express a difference of opinion from Mr.
Pages:
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321