He thought of nothing but
stunning or drowning his agony of mind. No one in this house could
have rest; and, at last, we have been obliged to send him from home
for a week, with some one to look after him. He has written to me
this morning, expressing some sense of contrition . . . but as long as
he remains at home, I scarce dare hope for peace in the house. We
must all, I fear, prepare for a season of distress and disquietude.
When I left you, I was strongly impressed with the feeling that I was
going back to sorrow."
"August, 1845.
"Things here at home are much as usual; not very bright as it regards
Branwell, though his health, and consequently his temper, have been
somewhat better this last day or two, because he is now _forced to_
abstain."
"August 18th, 1845.
"I have delayed writing, because I have no good news to communicate.
My hopes ebb low indeed about Branwell. I sometimes fear he will
never be fit for much. The late blow to his prospects and feelings
has quite made him reckless. It is only absolute want of means that
acts as any check to him. One ought, indeed, to hope to the very
last; and I try to do so, but occasionally hope in his case seems so
fallacious."
"Nov. 4th, 1845.
"I hoped to be able to ask you to come to Haworth.
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