But there is another thing which forms a barrier more
difficult to pass than any of these. Would Mr. Taylor and I ever
suit? Could I ever feel for him enough love to accept him as a
husband? Friendship--gratitude--esteem I have, but each moment he
came near me, and that I could see his eyes fastened on me, my veins
ran ice. Now that he is away I feel far more gently towards him; it
is only close by that I grow rigid--stiffening with a strange mixture
of apprehension and anger, which nothing softens but his retreat and
a perfect subduing of his manner. I did not want to be proud, nor
intend to be proud, but I was forced to be so.
'Most true is it that we are over-ruled by one above us--that in his
hands our very will is as clay in the hands of the potter.
'Papa continues very far from well, though yesterday, and I hope this
morning, he is a little better. How is your mother? Give my love to
her and your sister. How are you? Have you suffered from tic since
you returned home? Did they think you improved in looks?
'Write again soon.--Yours faithfully,
'C. BRONTE.'
TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY
'_April_ 23_rd_, 1851.
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