Charlotte's own short account of this event is as follows:--
"Martha T.'s illness was unknown to me till the day before she died. I
hastened to Koekelberg the next morning--unconscious that she was in
great danger--and was told that it was finished. She had died in the
night. Mary was taken away to Bruxelles. I have seen Mary frequently
since. She is in no ways crushed by the event; but while Martha was ill,
she was to her more than a mother--more than a sister: watching, nursing,
cherishing her so tenderly, so unweariedly. She appears calm and serious
now; no bursts of violent emotion; no exaggeration of distress. I have
seen Martha's grave--the place where her ashes lie in a foreign country."
Who that has read "Shirley" does not remember the few lines--perhaps half
a page--of sad recollection?
"He has no idea that little Jessy will die young, she is so gay, and
chattering, and arch--original even now; passionate when provoked, but
most affectionate if caressed; by turns gentle and rattling; exacting
yet generous; fearless . . . yet reliant on any who will help her.
Jessy, with her little piquant face, engaging prattle, and winning
ways, is made to be a pet.
* * * * *
"Do you know this place? No, you never saw it; but you recognise the
nature of these trees, this foliage--the cypress, the willow, the yew.
Pages:
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314