She missed the small round of cheerful, social visiting
perpetually going on in a country town; she missed the friends she had
known from her childhood, some of whom had been her parents' friends
before they were hers; she disliked many of the customs of the place, and
particularly dreaded the cold damp arising from the flag floors in the
passages and parlours of Haworth Parsonage. The stairs, too, I believe,
are made of stone; and no wonder, when stone quarries are near, and trees
are far to seek. I have heard that Miss Branwell always went about the
house in pattens, clicking up and down the stairs, from her dread of
catching cold. For the same reason, in the latter years of her life, she
passed nearly all her time, and took most of her meals, in her bedroom.
The children respected her, and had that sort of affection for her which
is generated by esteem; but I do not think they ever freely loved her. It
was a severe trial for any one at her time of life to change
neighbourhood and habitation so entirely as she did; and the greater her
merit.
I do not know whether Miss Branwell taught her nieces anything besides
sewing, and the household arts in which Charlotte afterwards was such an
adept. Their regular lessons were said to their father; and they were
always in the habit of picking up an immense amount of miscellaneous
information for themselves.
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