"I know that if women wish to escape the stigma of husband-hunting,
they must act and look like marble or clay,--cold, expressionless,
bloodless; for every appearance of feeling, of joy, sorrow,
friendliness, antipathy, admiration, disgust, are alike construed
by the world into an attempt to hook a husband. Never mind!
well-meaning women have their own consciences to comfort them,
after all. Do not therefore be too much afraid of showing yourself
as you are, affectionate and good-hearted; do not harshly repress
sentiments and feelings excellent in themselves, because you fear
that some puppy may fancy you are letting them come out to
fascinate him; do not condemn yourself to live only by halves,
because if you showed too much animation some pragmatical thing in
breeches might take it into his pate to imagine that you desired to
dedicate your life to inanity. Write again soon, for I feel rather
fierce and want stroking down."
That the sisters were not without their own perturbations and heart
troubles, even in the deep seclusion of their lonely home, may be judged
by some extracts from a poem written by Emily, who never confided
anything to any friend but her own sombre muse.
"Cold is the earth, and the deep snow piled above thee,
Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave.
Have I forgot, my only love, to love thee,
Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave?
"Now, when removed, do my thoughts no longer hover
Over the mountains on that northern shore,
Resting their wings where heath and fern leaves cover
Thy noble heart forever, evermore?
"Cold in the grave, and fifteen wild Decembers
From these brown hills have melted into spring;
Faithful indeed the love is that remembers
After such years of change and suffering."
That Charlotte had some admirers among her father's curates is well
known, and that Mr. Nichols paid court to her eight years previous to
the time of her marriage with him. That she was capable of intense and
passionate devotion there can be no doubt, but we have no hint as to
whom she had lavished it upon, in any of her letters.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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