I was surprised also at the degree of regret expressed by my
Belgian pupils, when they knew I was going to leave. I did not think it
had been in their phlegmatic nature . . . I do not know whether you feel
as I do, but there are times now when it appears to me as if all my ideas
and feelings, except a few friendships and affections, are changed from
what they used to be; something in me, which used to be enthusiasm, is
tamed down and broken. I have fewer illusions; what I wish for now is
active exertion--a stake in life. Haworth seems such a lonely, quiet
spot, buried away from the world. I no longer regard myself as
young--indeed, I shall soon be twenty-eight; and it seems as if I ought
to be working and braving the rough realities of the world, as other
people do. It is, however, my duty to restrain this feeling at present,
and I will endeavour to do so."
Of course her absent sister and brother obtained a holiday to welcome her
return home, and in a few weeks she was spared to pay a visit to her
friend at B. But she was far from well or strong, and the short journey
of fourteen miles seems to have fatigued her greatly.
Soon after she came back to Haworth, in a letter to one of the household
in which she had been staying, there occurs this passage:--"Our poor
little cat has been ill two days, and is just dead.
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