o the post, and that
consumes nearly an hour, which is a large portion of the day. Mr. and
Mrs. --- have been gone a week. I heard from them this morning. No
time is fixed for their return, but I hope it will not be delayed
long, or I shall miss the chance of seeing Anne this vacation. She
came home, I understand, last Wednesday, and is only to be allowed
three weeks' vacation, because the family she is with are going to
Scarborough. _I should like to see her_, to judge for myself of the
state of her health. I dare not trust any other person's report, no
one seems minute enough in their observations. I should very much
have liked you to have seen her. I have got on very well with the
servants and children so far; yet it is dreary, solitary work. You
can tell as well as me the lonely feeling of being without a
companion."

Soon after this was written, Mr. and Mrs. --- returned, in time to allow
Charlotte to go and look after Anne's health, which, as she found to her
intense anxiety, was far from strong. What could she do to nurse and
cherish up this little sister, the youngest of them all? Apprehension
about her brought up once more the idea of keeping a school. If, by this
means, they three could live together, and maintain themselves, all might
go well. They would have some time of their own, in which to try again
and yet again at that literary career, which, in spite of all baffling
difficulties, was never quite set aside as an ultimate object; but far
the strongest motive with Charlotte was the conviction that Anne's health
was so delicate that it required a degree of tending which none but her
sister could give. Thus she wrote during those midsummer holidays.

"Haworth, July 18th, 1841.

"We waited long and anxiously for you, on the Thursday that you
promised to come. I quite wearied my eyes with watching from the
window, eye-glass in hand, and sometimes spectacles on nose. However,
you are not to blame . . . and as to disappointment, why, all must
suffer disappointment at some period or other of their lives. But a
hundred things I had to say to you will now be forgotten, and never
said. There is a project hatching in this house, which both Emily and
I anxiously wished to discuss with you. The project is yet in its
infancy, hardly peeping from its shell; and whether it will ever come
out a fine full-fledged chicken, or will