This is from page 44 of The Three Brontës, written by May Sinclair, telling of Emily’s last hours:-
“It could have been hardly daylight on the moors the morning when Charlotte went out to find that last solitary sprig of heather which she laid on Emily’s pillow for Emily to see when she awoke. Emily’s eyes were so drowsed with death that she could not see it. And yet it could not have been many hours later when a fire was lit in her bedroom, and she rose and dressed herself. Madame Duclaux tells how she sat before the fire, combing her long, dark hair, and how the comb dropped from her weak fingers, and fell under the grate. And how she sat there in her mortal apathy; and how, when the servant came to her, she said dreamily: ‘Martha, my comb’s down there; I was too weak to stoop and pick it up.’”
