By the way, you've put him in the servant's bedroom. You make
us all talk much as I think we should have done if we'd ventured to
speak at all. What a little lump of perfection you've made me!
There is a strange feeling in reading it of hearing us all talking.
I have not seen the matted hall and painted parlour windows so plain
these five years. But my father is not like. He hates well enough
and perhaps loves too, but he is not honest enough. It was from my
father I learnt not to marry for money nor to tolerate any one who
did, and he never would advise any one to do so, or fail to speak
with contempt of those who did. Shirley is much more interesting
than Jane Eyre, who never interests you at all until she has
something to suffer. All through this last novel there is so much
more life and stir that it leaves you far more to remember than the
other. Did you go to London about this too? What for? I see by a
letter of yours to Mr. Dixon that you _have_ been. I wanted to
contradict some of your opinions, now I can't. As to when I'm coming
home, you may well ask. I have wished for fifteen years to begin to
earn my own living; last April I began to try--it is too soon to say
yet with what success. I am woefully ignorant, terribly wanting in
tact, and obstinately lazy, and almost too old to mend.
Pages:
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385