Again he writes to Leyland a letter in which he dwells on his unavailing grief, and vividly points out its effects upon him. He says, alluding to the lady of his distracted thoughts, 'Well, my dear sir, I have got my finishing stroke at last, and I feel stunned into marble by the blow. 'I have this morning received a long, kind, and faithful letter from the medical gentleman who attended ---- in his last illness, and who has since had an interview with one whom I can never forget. 'He knows me _well_, and pities my case most sincerely.... It's hard work for me, dear sir; I would bear it, but my health is so bad that the body seems as if it could not bear the mental shock.... My appetite is lost, my nights are dreadful, and having nothing to do makes me dwell on past scenes,--on her own self--her own voice--her person--her thoughts--till I could be glad if God would take me. In the next world I could not be worse than I am in this.' On June the 17th, Charlotte writes: 'Branwell declares that he neither can nor will do anything for himself; good situations have been offered him, for which, by a fortnight's work, he might have qualified himself, but he will do nothing except drink and make us all wretched.'[31] [31] Gaskell's 'Life of Charlotte Brontë,' chap. xiv. It would seem that the sisters were unaware of the depth of his present misery, and in part misunderstood the disturbed condition of their brother's mind at this juncture. But Branwell, although suffering great mental prostration under the infliction of any sudden and unexpected disappointment, was possessed of considerable recuperative power; and, after a period of brooding melancholy over his woes, he appeared to take renewed interest in the events that were passing around him. This seems to have been the case even under his late circumstances; there was, in the depth of his own heart, a woe from which he endeavoured to escape by engaging in the pursuits and pleasures of his friends. On the 3rd of July, having, to all appearance, somewhat recovered from this disappointment, Branwell wrote to his friend the sculptor: 'DEAR SIR, 'John Brown told me that you had a relievo of my very wretched self, framed in your studio. 'If it be a _duplicate_, I should like the carrier to bring it to Haworth; not that I care a fig for it, save from regard for its maker,--but my sisters ask me to try to obtain it; and I write in obedience to them. 'I earnestly trust that you are heartier than I am, and I promise to send you "Morley Hall" as soon as dreary days and nights will give me leave to do so. 'Believe me, 'Yours most sincerely, 'P. B. BRONTË.'