As I have said already, when I first wrote about the Brontës there were many still living who had known the sisters well. Of these Miss Nussey was the chief, and it may be of interest to repeat a few of the statements which from time to time she made to me with regard to Charlotte. One of the most striking of these was her account of the single visit which she paid to Haworth after Charlotte became the wife of Mr. Nicholls. Miss Nussey told me that she accompanied Charlotte and her husband one day on a walk over the moors. In the course of their conversation she asked Charlotte if she was writing another book. "No," replied Charlotte; "Arthur says I have no time for writing now, as I must attend to my duties as a clergyman's wife." She said it in such a tone as to convince her friend that she was not satisfied with her husband's decision, and Miss Nussey, plucking up her courage, remonstrated with him upon his refusal to allow Charlotte to exercise her great gift. Mr. Nicholls's response was short and to the point. "I did not marry Currer Bell, the novelist, but Charlotte Brontë, the clergyman's daughter. Currer Bell may fly to heaven to-morrow for anything I care." I do not vouch for the absolute truth of this story, but I give it as I heard it from Miss Nussey, and I am quite sure that when she told it to me she believed it to be true. Charlotte must have been more attractive than the world at one time believed her to have been, for she had several offers of marriage before Mr. Nicholls appeared upon the scene as a suitor. Mrs. Smith, the mother of Mr. George Smith, her publisher, was somewhat alarmed at the possibility of her son's admiration for Charlotte's genius developing into an affection for her, and whilst very kind to the young authoress, she let her see that in her opinion Mr. Smith was much too young to become her husband. In one of her letters to Miss Nussey, Charlotte discussed this situation, and with her characteristic candour and good sense came to the conclusion that Mrs. Smith was altogether right. Her son was both too young and too brilliant, she declared, to make a fitting husband for the obscure parson's daughter. In "Villette," where the story of her own heart is told, Mrs. Smith and her son are to be found portrayed in the characters of Mr. John and his mother. Charlotte Brontë's fame, her genius, her power, live after her in her books, and so long as those books are read will never be forgotten. But it is not her fame, her genius, her power, which are the most precious possessions she has left to us, but that sweetness and virtue, which like bright flowers bloom upon her grave and remind us of the life which lies beyond it. CHAPTER XI. VISITS TO THE CONTINENT.