As for me, God has
hitherto most graciously sustained me; so far I have felt adequate to
bear my own burden and even to offer a little help to others. I am
not ill; I can get through daily duties, and do something towards
keeping hope and energy alive in our mourning household. My father
says to me 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.
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