The moment is so breathless that dinner comes as a relief to
the solemnity of the occasion, and we all smile as my father stoops
to offer his arm; for, though genius she may be, Miss Bronte can
barely reach his elbow. My own personal impressions are that she is
somewhat grave and stern, especially to forward little girls who wish
to chatter. Mr. George Smith has since told me how she afterwards
remarked upon my father's wonderful forbearance and gentleness with
our uncalled-for incursions into the conversation. She sat gazing at
him with kindling eyes of interest, lighting up with a sort of
illumination every now and then as she answered him. I can see her
bending forward over the table, not eating, but listening to what he
said as he carved the dish before him.
'I think it must have been on this very occasion that my father
invited some of his friends in the evening to meet Miss Bronte--for
everybody was interested and anxious to see her. Mrs. Crowe, the
reciter of ghost-stories, was there. Mrs. Brookfield, Mrs. Carlyle,
Mr. Carlyle himself was present, so I am told, railing at the
appearance of cockneys upon Scotch mountain sides; there were also
too many Americans for his taste, "but the Americans were as gods
compared to the cockneys," says the philosopher.
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