almost hourly, "Charlotte, you must bear up, I shall sink
if you fail me"; these words, you can conceive, are a stimulus to
nature. The sight, too, of my sister Anne's very still but deep
sorrow wakens in me such fear for her that I dare not falter.
Somebody _must_ cheer the rest.

'So I will not now ask why Emily was torn from us in the fulness of
our attachment, rooted up in the prime of her own days, in the
promise of her powers; why her existence now lies like a field of
green corn trodden down, like a tree in full bearing struck at the
root. I will only say, sweet is rest after labour and calm after
tempest, and repeat again and again that Emily knows that now.--Yours
sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

And then there are these last pathetic references to the beloved sister.

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'_January_ 2_nd_, 1849.

'MY DEAR SIR,--Untoward circumstances come to me, I think, less
painfully than pleasant ones would just now. The lash of the
_Quarterly_, however severely applied, cannot sting--as its praise
probably would not elate me. Currer Bell feels a sorrowful
independence of reviews and reviewers; their approbation might indeed
fall like an additional weight on his heart, but their censure has no
bitterness for him.

'My sister Anne sends the accompanying answer to the letter received
through you the other day; will you be kind enough to post it? She
is not well yet, nor is papa, both are suffering under severe
influenza colds. My letters had better be brief at present--they
cannot be cheerful. I am, however, still sustained. While looking
with dismay on the desolation sickness and death have wrought in our
home, I can combine with awe of God's judgments a sense of gratitude
for his mercies. Yet life has become very void, and hope has proved
a strange traitor; when I shall again be able to put confidence in
her suggestions, I know not: she kept whispering that Emily would
not, _could_ not die, and where is she now? Out of my reach, out of
my world--torn from me.--Yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

'_March_ 3_rd_, 1849.

'MY DEA