, as
papa really cannot bear putting out of his way. I must wait,
however, till the infliction is over.

'You ask about Mr. Nicholls. I hear he has got a curacy, but do not
yet know where. I trust the news is true. He and papa never speak.
He seems to pass a desolate life. He has allowed late circumstances
so to act on him as to freeze up his manner and overcast his
countenance not only to those immediately concerned but to every one.
He sits drearily in his rooms. If Mr. Grant or any other clergyman
calls to see, and as they think, to cheer him, he scarcely speaks. I
find he tells them nothing, seeks no confidant, rebuffs all attempts
to penetrate his mind. I own I respect him for this. He still lets
Flossy go to his rooms, and takes him to walk. He still goes over to
see Mr. Sowden sometimes, and, poor fellow, that is all. He looks
ill and miserable. I think and trust in Heaven that he will be
better as soon as he fairly gets away from Haworth. I pity him
inexpressibly. We never meet nor speak, nor dare I look at him;
silent pity is just all that I can give him, and as he knows nothing
about that, it does not comfort. He is now grown so gloomy and
reserved that nobody seems to like him. His fellow-curates shun
trouble in that shape; the lower orders dislike it. Papa has a
perfect antipathy to him, and he, I fear, to papa. Martha hates him.
I think he might almost be _dying_ and they would not speak a
friendly word to or of him. How much of all this he deserves I can't
tell; certainly he never was agreeable or amiable, and is less so now
than ever, and alas! I do not know him well enough to be sure that
there is truth and true affection, or only rancour and corroding
disappointment at the bottom of his chagrin. In this state of things
I must be, and I am, _entirely passive_. I may be losing the purest
gem, and to me far the most precious, life can give--genuine
attachment--or I may be escaping the yoke of a morose temper. In
this doubt conscience will not suffer me to take one step in
opposition to papa's will, blended as that will is with the most
bitter and unreasonable prejudices. So I just leave the matter where
we must leave all important matters.

'Remember me kindly to all at Brookroyd, and--Believe me, yours
faithfully,