Yours, wishing devoutly that papa would resume his tranquillity, and Mr. Nicholls his beef and pudding,

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘Haworth, December 18th, 1852.

You ask how papa demeans himself to Mr. Nicholls.  I only wish you were here to see papa in his present mood: you would know something of him.  He just treats him with a hardness not to be bent, and a contempt not to be propitiated.  The two have had no interview as yet; all has been done by letter.  Papa wrote, I must say, a most cruel note to Mr. Nicholls on Wednesday.  In his state of mind and health (for the poor man is horrifying his landlady, Martha’s mother, by entirely rejecting his meals) I felt that the blow must be parried, and I thought it right to accompany the pitiless despatch by a line to the effect that, while Mr. Nicholls must never expect me to reciprocate the feeling he had expressed, yet, at the same time, I wished to disclaim participation in sentiments calculated to give him pain; and I exhorted him to maintain his courage and spirits.  On receiving the two letters, he set off from home.  Yesterday came the inclosed brief epistle.
‘You must understand that a good share of papa’s anger arises from the idea, not altogether groundless, that Mr. Nicholls has behaved with disingenuousness in so long concealing his aim.  I am afraid also that papa thinks a little too much about his want of money; he says the match would be a degradation, that I should be throwing myself away, that he expects me, if I marry at all, to do very differently; in short, his manner of viewing the subject is on the whole far from being one in which I can sympathise.  My own objections arise from a sense of incongruity and uncongeniality in feelings, tastes, principles.
‘How are you getting on, dear Nell, and how are all at Brookroyd?  Remember me kindly to everybody.—Yours, wishing devoutly that papa would resume his tranquillity, and Mr. Nicholls his beef and pudding,

‘C. Brontë

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘January 2nd, 1853.

‘Dear Nell,—I thought of you on New Year’s night, and hope you got well over your formidable tea-making.  I trust that Tuesday and Wednesday will also pass pleasantly.  I am busy too in my little way preparing to go to London this week, a matter which necessitates some little application to the needle.  I find it is quite necessary I should go to superintend the press, as Mr. Smith seems quite determined not to let the printing get on till I come.  I have actually only received three proof-sheets since I was at Brookroyd.  Papa wants me to go too, to be out of the way, I suppose; but I am sorry for one other person whom nobody pities but me.  Martha is bitter against him; John Brown says “he should like to shoot him.”  They don’t understand the nature of his feelings, but I see now what they are.  He is one of those who attach themselves to very few, whose sensations are close and deep, like an underground stream, running strong, but in a narrow channel.  He continues restless and ill; he carefully performs the occasional duty, but does not come near the church, procuring a substitute every Sunday.  A few days since he wrote to papa requesting permission to withdraw his resignation.  Papa answered that he should only do so on condition of giving his written promise never again to broach the obnoxious subject either to him or to me.  This he has evaded doing, so the matter remains unsettled.  I feel persuaded the termination will be his departure for Australia.  Dear Nell, without loving him, I don’t like to think of him suffering in solitude, and wish him anywhere so that he were happier.  He and papa have never met or spoken yet.  I am very glad to learn that your mother is pretty well, and also that the piece of challenged work is progressing.  I hope you will not be called away to Norfolk before I come home: I should like you to pay a visit to Haworth first.  Write again soon.—Yours faithfully,

‘C. Brontë.’
 

dailymail/The-Brontes