d on her with an
anguish of wonder and love. I have seen nothing like it; but indeed
I have never seen her parallel in anything. Stronger than a man,
simpler than a child, her nature stood alone. The awful point was
that, while full of ruth for others, on herself she had no pity;
the spirit was inexorable to the flesh; from the trembling hands,
the unnerved limbs, the fading eyes, the same service was exacted
as they had rendered in health. To stand by and witness this, and
not dare to remonstrate, was a pain no words can render."

Emily never left the house after Branwell's death. She made no
complaint, but her friends could see that she was deadly ill. Yet she
would have no doctor, and insisted upon going on with her work as usual.
This she did until she was actually dying. Branwell had insisted upon
standing up to die; and poor Emily had scarcely consented to lie down,
when she was gone. Their will-power in their last agonies was something
almost fearful to contemplate. As the old bereaved father and Charlotte
and Anne followed the coffin to the grave, Emily's old, fierce, faithful
bull-dog, to which she had been so much attached, came out and walked
beside them. When they returned he lay down by Emily's door, and howled
pitifully for many days. Charlotte recurred to this death-scene
continually. In one letter she says:--

"I cannot forget Emily's death-day; it becomes a more fixed, a
darker, a more frequently recurring idea in my mind than ever. It
was very terrible. She was torn, conscious, panting, reluctant,
though resolute, out of a happy life. But it will not do to dwell
on these things."

Anne Bronte did not long survive her sister, and Charlotte was now alone
except that she had the care of her aged father, who was feeble and
nearly blind. The awful loneliness of the old house almost crazed her,
but she went faithfully to work, and bore up with unheard of fortitude.
Two or three solitary years went by, when Mr. Nichols, her father's
curate, renewed his suit to Miss Bronte. Mrs. Gaskell tells us that he
was one who had known her intimately for years, and was not a man to be
attracted by any kind of literary fame. He was a grave, reserved,
conscientious man, with strong religious feeling. In silence he had
watched and loved her long.

She thus describes the meeting:--

"Instead I heard a tap, and like lightning it flashed upon me what