supperless to bed; but when next morning they rose from their untasted breakfast her resolution wavered. It was a new mode of warfare. The garrison by starving themselves compelled the enemy to retire.

Failing in their endeavours in the path of literature, and loathing the other means by which they had sought independence, the sisters determined on setting up a school. Emily, indeed, had for some time resided entirely with her father and aunt, being seized with desperate home-sickness whenever withdrawn from the wild freedom of the moors, where she roamed in haughty loneliness, or accompanied only by her savage bull-dog, with whom she had established an alliance, offensive and defensive, very wonderful to relate, and very fearful to read of the triumphing by the sheer force of a reckless resolution and frenzied courage over his fierce and faithful nature. But from "Keeper," from the moors she loved so dearly (whether livid and chill beneath the winter sky, or burning with the purple splendours of an August day), she was compelled for a while to part. Charlotte and herself, to attain a greater proficiency in the continental languages, entered as pupils a pension at Brussels. How well we know it and its inmates its shadowy garden and haunted chambers, and the airy, orderly school-room that enshrines the image of M. Paul!

At first they were miserable enough in these new scenes-Charlotte, through "the shyness that would please if it knew how;" and Emily, through the "reserve that does not care to please." How she must have astonished the Brussels pensionnats! Though the fashion had long been discarded, she insisted on retaining gigot-sleeves and scanty skirts. Ten years hence, young ladies, when your round hats and crinolines will repose beside Belinda's patches and brocade, you will wonder what mocking fiend had whispered to you they were becoming. But what, if some strong-minded sister should come forth, clad in your discarded armour, with what an outcry she would be greeted! And in similar guise did Emily make her appearance amongst the careful toilets of her new companions. But not only in her dress did she manifest her originality of character: we find her in opposition to M. Héger, with whom they studied, laying down the law, disputing, arguing on his mode of imparting instruction-and, seriously, we think likely to have had the best of the argument, if she had but been allowed time to finish it. Whatever opinion she had formed of M. Héger's plan, it was at least crowned with entire success, and Charlotte and he ever afterwards entertained a high opinion of one another; and she having been recalled to England on the death of her aunt, he urged her return to complete what was so well begun. And accordingly, after a short sojourn in England, Charlotte resumed her place in the pension, but now promoted to the post of English teacher there, awing her rebellious subjects into submission by her quiet, firm authority, yet evidently drawing by degrees a charmed circle around her, within which none

dared to penetrate. Imagine, for example, the feelings of M. Héger, when, for an essay on the name of Napoleon Bonaparte, she presented him with a glowing panegyric on his great antagonist! Then she began to yearn after home and homely doings, and life at Brussels became insupportable. Indeed, it is noteworthy that, after a time, restlessness seemed to seize on her, wherever her steps were led-and this from no discontent or repining, but arising evidently in a great measure from impaired health. Already may be traced evidences of failing physical powers,

"Such precious gums are not for lasting fire:

They but perfume the temple, and expire." the moorland Parsonage received her beneath its roof; and now, their project of establishing a school having been abandoned, through distressing family circumstances, the three sisters resumed their former idea of winning an independence through their pen. Again those firelight conferences were opened, and the plans of

their fictions discussed. The wild web was unrolled, strange creations loomed in gigantic proportions, and life's agonies were depicted in deepest pathos. But meanwhile, Charlotte had happened upon a book of manuscript poems, the product of Emily's muse.

She was struck

by their power, convinced of their superiority to blossoms should no more "waste their fragrance ordinary verse, and resolved these mountain on the desert air." It is very observable how

highly she always rated Emily's capacities, what love she lavished upon one, who to strange manifestly preferring them before her own; and eyes appears in no attractive form, and who, moreover, bestowed all the affection her fierce and fiery nature owned on Anne-meek, pensive, and pious, and early saddened by the world's rough dealings with a sensitive spirit. Such were the three poets, whose modest little volume came forth one Spring-an unwelcomed guest, on the wide world of literature. All through the long summer days, the sisters watched and waited on its progress. It passed unnoticed, almost, like Wordsworth's Lucy

"A maid whom there were none to praise." And Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell had yet to win for themselves a name. Such was the pale dawn of that dazzling day of fame, that was even now at hand.

Hopeless as Charlotte all through life declared herself to be, she was not now discouraged. Perhaps, because she hoped so little, she was therefore the less dismayed by failure. Whilst their volume was yet on trial, the three sisters were already engaged in the composition of three tales, which they hoped might appear together, and which they accordingly offered for this purpose to the London trade.

It came at last-the fiat of those awful Parcæ: "Wuthering Heights" and "Agnes Grey," by Ellis and Acton Bell, found acceptance on terms sufficiently impoverishing to the authors. "The Professor," sent from publisher to publisher, was rejected, and the brave heart of Currer Bell

brow, whilst cruel criticisms wrung tears from eyes that we had fancied beaming with triumph. So it is: regal robes, and servile honours, and the destruction of his people decreed-" thus it is done to the man whom this king delighteth to honour."

Her life was one of more outward change than it had been, and circumstances that formerly she would have found sufficiently exciting attended it. The country Parsonage was sought by the loftiest and most gifted of the land; where all were celebrated, the authoress of "Jane Eyre" was remarkable. But her heart was dead-withered up within her, lying in the church, where those dear to her mouldered. On one public occasion, when one noted character after another found some plea for introducing themselves to her notice, at the close of the lecture, fine ladies and great gentlemen formed themselves into a line, with opera-glasses levelled, to see the wonder of the day pass by! and through this terrible array the shrinking, suffering woman-trembling and heart-sick-had to make her way. She had been nourished on too homely food to relish such stimulating diet as this. She visited the Lakes. Southey, when she was yet an unknown aspirant for fame, had, with his kindly counsel, given her an invitation to visit him whenever her steps should be led in that direction. But Southey was not there now to welcome her. It is ever so-the blossom must wither ere the fruit hangs on the bough. So be it.

"The tree

Sucks kindlier moisture from a soil enriched
By its own fallen leaves; and man is made,
In heart and spirit, from deciduous hopes
And things that seem to perish."

Surely in "Villette," her latest and best work, something of this may be traced. There are hard sayings, embittered sentiments there still; but resignation has found its way there, or we fancy it; and the pure gold of M. Paul, in his truth and tenderness and child-like simplicity, might outweigh whole legions of such faulty and fascinating heroes as Mr. Rochester or Robert Moore. M. Paul has won his way amongst the ladies. Numerous were the inquiries by which Miss Bronté was assailed for further particulars of his fate. We wonder there should ever have been a doubt of it. Was

Lucy's life set in a joyous key. Struggle against the conviction as we may, there are some of us born beneath the chill, rayless influence of far-wandering Uranus.

"Some must watch, while some may sleep."

It is our place, and so the best place for us. As for M. Paul, his whole life was a sacrifice, and the end crowned the work. In testimony of his worth we must cite the example of a lady, who had vowed herself to celibacy until she could meet Miss Austin's "Mr. Knightley;" but who revoked that determination in favour of the little Professor. By which anecdote we are reminded of the singular perversion of taste that prevented Miss Bronté from finding any excellences in Miss Austin's writings. Those calm, smiling scenes found no echo in her experience of life, if we except its concluding passages. In the quiet gladness of her wedded state, a new era seemed opening upon her. Alas! it was but

"The torrent's smoothness ere it dash below."

To a neglected cold, a low fever supervened: The summer had seen her a white-robed bride. the next spring found her lying on her deathbed. Her mind wandered till towards the close. Then she said, becoming conscious of her husband's silent grief, "Oh! I am not going to die! We have been so happy."

It is nearly the first acknowledgment of happiness that has reached us from those eloquent lips; and it is the last. Another tablet-the first is filled-tells her name and age, the date of her marriage and her death. And silence has gathered over her sad home, and a deeper gloom rests upon the purple moors. Tread softly! She is at rest; and we turn away saddened and awe-struck from the contemplation of a life so gifted and so darkened; and feel that our words are foolish words when we would speak of her. And from the mist-hung churchyard and from the haunted moor we hear tones of mournful murmurs and grave rebuke

"Come not, when I am dead, To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave,

To trample round my fallen head And vex the unhappy dust thou couldst not save; There let the wind sweep, and the plover cry; But thou, go by."

Certainly not-of course not. Why should you doubt my desire to oblige you in this or any other matter, Miss Warren?" inquired that respectable widow, in an aggrieved tone.

"Because," said Miss Warren, smiling, "it is the 'G. B. Institution,' as you call it, which I am so anxious to visit, and you know you objected to my writing to Mrs. Laneford, as I did, to make inquiries about the nature of the charity."

"Are you interested in that excellent instution, my dear?" inquired Miss Gridley, eagerly.

"Very much so indeed, and should like to visit it before becoming a life-subscriber-as I purpose doing."

"I am very glad to hear it," rejoined Miss Gridley, with an approving smile, that was not reflected upon Mrs. Salter's pursed-up lips. "And as I know something of Mrs. Laneford, who takes so active a part in the conduct of the asylum, we will, if you like, call upon her this afternoon. She lives but a little way from here, and as Wednesday is the day which she spends with the old ladies, I have no doubt she will have much pleasure in going over the building with you herself."

Miss Warren was a quiet, unenthusiastic young lady, but her eyes kindled up with something like a gleam of excitement at this proposal, to which she readily acceded.

"And then, Mrs. Salter," added her hostess, you can have a nice quiet afternoon for your book, as perhaps a visit to a party of elderly ladies is not so very much to your taste. I like old people, you know; which is fortunate, as I shall soon be one myself, you see: and besides, I have one or two friends in the asylum who are very fond of having a gossip with me, poor old souls!"

"With my limited means, Miss Gridley, I cannot do them any good; and, to a sensitive nature such as mine, it is so painful to witness distress which one cannot alleviate."

66

And with a profound sigh, and melancholy shake of her head, Mrs. Salter returned to chapter the seventh" in the last new novel, identifying herself more than ever with the lovely and faultless heroine of the same.

This estimable lady, who for the present filled the position of companion and chaperone to Miss Warren, was always talking of her "limited means;" and because she could not render pecuniary assistance to all of the many "unfortunate cases" brought under her notice, preferred doing nothing for any of them, considering herself all the while a "martyr to circumstances ;" rather than, as she really was, a woman of very little feeling for any troubles but for her own, and of too much indolence to render the active help of time and thought, which is often of more value than mere money-giving.

Alicia Warren's tastes and feelings were a striking contrast to those of her soi-disant companion. She was just one-and-twenty, and had

tune, which it was a sore trouble to her to know what to do with. She had a most painful sense of the responsibilities devolving upon the wealthy; and having been all her life a pupil and assistant in a quiet country school, with no prospect of being other than a teacher for the rest of her days, the unforeseen change in her circumstances had, as yet, been fraught with more perplexity than enjoyment. Simple alike in her dress and her ideas, ostentatious display had for her no attraction, and the court now paid her for her money's sake, only excited her disgust. Plain in person, and with no brilliant mental endowment, she did not feel herself calculated to make a figure in the "beau monde," even had her ambition taken that direction. Her ruling desire was to do as much good as she could in her day and generation, in a quiet and unpretending way; and her greatest difficulty had been how to set about it in the most effectual manner-in which difficulty Mrs. Salter, whose ideas were, like her means, limited, had not been able to assist her. Her chance meeting with the energetic and actively charitable Miss Gridley, who was always doing a good turn for somebody, and had plenty of means at her disposal for so doing, had bean a real benefit to the unsophisticated girl, who, though somewhat startled by the eccentricities of her new friend, entered heartily into the various benevolent schemes startled by that philanthropist for the benefit of any neighbourhood in which she might be temporarily located.

Miss Gridley's sympathies took a wide range; but Alicia's were, as yet, more enlisted in the cause of governesses and teachers-from her own personal experience of the trials of their lot-than in any other race of unfortunates, although she wished well to all; and having heard of the efforts made in the metropolis for assisting them in various ways, when out of work or past work, she was not sorry to accept Miss Gridley's invitation to London for other purposes than the enjoyment of the "gay season to which Mrs. Salter looked forward.

The "sights" in which Miss Warren found most interest were the public charities, of the number and wealth of which, and the very great need of them, she had hitherto had no idea; and Miss Gridley was a most willing cicerone, and a capital guide to hospital, school, or asylum— although that lady's own peculiar pets were servants; and her greatest eccentricity was her injudicious treatment of those under her roof, whom she rendered thoroughly unfit for their proper duties in any other situation than hers. She scarcely ever had a visitor in her house; and, living as she did quite alone, many thought it strange that she did not seek a companion in her own rank of life, rather than prefer the constant society of those who, from their early habits and education, could not be supposed to be very congenial to an educated, well-informed gentlewoman. Travelling, as she did annually, sometimes for five or six months together, it seemed a pity that a young servant-girl should be the

only one to reap advantages which would have been far more real and lasting to one of more cultivated mind. But Miss Gridley did not understand that she was doing "Mary" any harm in taking her about as her inseparable companion, and introducing her at table d'hotes, theatres, and other places of public resort, as a friend, on an equality with herself, dressed in every way as "a lady," for the time being. And so her odd ideas in this respect were wondered at, and overlooked by those who pronounced her "a really well-meaning, good-hearted person."

Miss Gridley's idea that the room looked gloomy, rather than cosy, was not shared by her companion, but their discussion of the point was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Laneford, who apologized for having kept them waiting, saying that on their arrival she had been "in all the agonies of carving a leg of mutton, and couid not desert the old ladies till the business was accomplished, I always dine with them on Wednesdays, and they look forward to my being with them during the meal; so you must excuse my apparent rudeness."

Her genial, hearty manner, and the smile, so full of benevolence, which accompanied Mrs. Laneford's words, put Miss Warren quite at her ease, and she readily assented to a proposed tour of the building.

Miss Gridley, as a matter of habit, or of duty, always told her attendant exactly where she was going, and what she thought of" seeing," when on the point of starting with her young friend. "We are going to the Kentish Town Asylum to-day, Mary; and as Mrs. Salter is sure to be occupied with her book in the drawing-room, you can practise that little song of yours at the piano, downstairs, if you like. Janet will answer the bell.”

"Thank you, ma'am," said Mary, as she closed the door, and Miss Warren walked on, meditating upon the judiciousness of such benevolence.

Mrs. Laneford had already gone to the asylum, so the two ladies lost no time in following her thither, Miss Warren feeling somewhat nervous at the prospect of an introduction to one to whom she had been bold enough to address a letter, which by some might have been considered a liberty on her part.

The building, although not unattractive exteriorly, and surrounded by garden-ground too recently laid out to be either very shrubby or very shady, by the way-looked somewhat incomplete in its structure, and was evidently intended to grow larger with an increase of funds. The room into which they were ushered was the sitting-room and drawing-room of the establishment, containing unmistakeable proof that it was arranged to be lived in rather than to be looked at. The number of easy-chairs scattered about it especially attracted Miss Warren's attention. There was also a large foldingscreen, gay with a variety of paintings and engravings, carefully pasted on, perhaps by the old ladies themselves, which seemed eminently adapted to keep off the draughts from the rheumatic and the chilly.

The walls had a fair share of pictures and drawings also, with sketches of various subjects and of varied merit, possibly all fraught with a special interest unconnected with their intrinsic money-value.

"But will it not be a trouble to you to go with me?"

what I have so near at heart."

They stood by the fireside, chatting for some time, the young country-girl gaining much information about the conduct of the establishment, as she listened attentively to Mrs. Laneford's details respecting the many ways in which the charity contributed to the relief of those for whose benefit it was instituted.

"Every fortnight there is a fixed sum distributed to a certain number of applicants in temporary distress-although, alas! the distress is more frequently a permanent, rather than a temporary misfortune. Then there are so many annuities to be awarded with every half-yearly election, and gifts to the unsuccessful candidates who stand highest on the poll. Ah! you would be astonished at the number of disappointed ones there are, poor things! with every election, considering how small the sum for which they contend. However, I trust, before long, that we shall be able to increase the amount of the annuities, and make them a little more worth the trouble they are to gain, as some benevolent friends have started collections expressly for that purpose."

"But are they not more anxious to secure a comfortable home for themselves in the asylum when they are past work, than the small benefit derivable from a trifling annuity?" inquired Miss Gridley, in some surprise.

"Oh dear no: there are numbers eligible for the asylum who refuse to enter." "And why so? I should have thought it such a nice thing for them."

"And so it would be, for them, my dear Miss Warren; but poor things! there are very few of them who think only of themselves and many have brothers, fathers, and other relatives, with whom they gladly share the small pittance, which we deem far from sufficient for their own necessities. Oh! I could enumerate scores of such cases, for the secretary always fowards me the full particulars of every application, and you would be astonished at the self-denial exercised by many who resolutely turn away from the