In her religious opinions she was a warm Churchwoman, belonging to the ‘Evangelical’ school of thought. As she grew older, however, she became more and more large-hearted towards those from whom she differed on minor points, more and more ready to hold out a kind hand of friendship on all sides. This side of her appeared more distinctly, and developed more markedly, in India, than in her secluded English home.
Both at No. 3, and in her brother’s house, she was wont to read aloud her own stories to her young nephews and nieces, for the sake of their ‘criticisms,’ and perhaps quite as much for the sake of amusing them. Some of the then children, now grown up, recall those readings with pleasure.
Life at Binfield was quiet and regular. Charlotte kept up her habit of early rising; and from eight o’clock till half-past eight each morning she would take her ‘devotional’ walk in the garden,—hands folded on chest, head up, step firm and dignified. The impression left by her ‘dignity’ is strong, singularly so, when considered side by side with a step so springy that some describe it as even ‘jerky.’
Mornings were mainly given up to writing in her own room; and little was seen of her, as a general rule, between breakfast and luncheon. In the afternoon she was always ready for callers; and if not needed for them or aught else, she would go and visit the poor. On these rounds she commonly carried with her the conventional ‘bag,’ full of painted texts and tracts.
Evenings were devoted to sociable enjoyments; frequently to music and dancing. Charlotte was an adept at playing dance-music for her nephews and nieces; and at Binfield she also danced a great deal with her brother and the children. It does not seem that she had lost any of her old light-footedness, whether or not she had had practice during some years past. Sir Roger de Coverley, the Lancers, and the Minuet were great favourites. When the Gavotte began, the children stopped, for they could not spring high enough; but Charlotte was able to make the most wonderful springs. This does not look as though her spirit were yet broken by all that she had gone through.
Besides playing for the children, she would plan games for them, and would superintend charades; and when they grew older she would read Shakespeare with them, often knitting busily all the while as she read. Singing too had a share in these sociable evenings. She still steadily refrained from going out to parties at other people’s houses; but she never failed to be present at any party in their own house, not only making her appearance, but contributing her utmost to the entertainment of guests.
Her village work included visiting of the poor, and also, for a while, a class of big boys in the night-school. With the boys she was not successful. They were very troublesome and naughty, and she could not get hold of them at all. This failure is curious, in contrast with her after-success among the Native boys in India, those ‘dear brown boys,’ as she often called them. Western and Eastern boys differ considerably, however; and no doubt the explanation resides in this fact. Also, an English ploughboy requires different treatment from a high-caste Indian; but she was ‘friends’ with boys of all castes there.
In a letter to Mrs. Hamilton, written from Binfield, she says: ‘The Curate is already a comfort to me personally, for he has taken my night-class off my hands. I have no scruple in letting him do so, for I believe it is far better for the boys. They were too much for poor old Char. I had seventeen last night, and felt my inefficiency.’ And in another letter, soon after: ‘We had a talk about the proposed Sunday School. I asked not to have boys. My feeling is that I am too old for them.’
She was not too old, many years later, for Batala boys; but plainly she had not the requisite gifts for managing or winning rough English village lads.
A few recollections, jotted down by three of her nieces, may close this chapter:—