Wuthering height

the light; now, I had a distinct view

ing loose on her delicate neck; and eyes, had they been agreeable in expression, that would have been irresistible: fortunately for my susceptible heart, the only sentiment they evinced hovered between scorn and a kind of d

d; 'I can get them for myself.' 'I b

apron over her neat black frock, and standing

a cup,' I answered. 'Were

ling. 'You are the pro

were some mortal feud unavenged between us. I began to doubt whether he were a servant or not: his dress and speech were both rude, entirely devoid of the superiority observable in Mr. and Mrs. Heathcliff; his thick brown curls were rough and uncultivated, his whiskers encroached bearishly over his cheeks, and his hands were embrowned like those of a common la

ssuming the cheerful; 'and I fear I shall be weather-bound for

t, and, erecting himself before the blaze, looked down on me from the corner of his eyes, for all the world as if there were some mortal feud unavenged between us. I began to doubt whether he were a servant or not: his dress and speech were both rude, entirely devoid of the superiority observable in Mr. and Mrs. Heathcliff; his thick brown curls were rough and uncultivated, his whiskers encroached bearishly over his che

ssuming the cheerful; 'and I fear I shall be weather-bound for

ow that you run a risk of being lost in the marshes? People familiar with these moors often miss their road on such evenings; and I can tell you there

could

n, I must trust to my

d he of the shabby coat, shifting his fe

' she asked, appeal

ure. I no longer felt inclined to call Heathcliff a capital fellow. When the preparations were finished, he invited me with - 'Now, sir, bring

ey could not every day sit so grim and taciturn; and it was impossible, however ill-tem

s and ideas: many could not imagine the existence of happiness in a life of such complete exile from the world as you spend, Mr. Heathcliff;

h an almost diabolical sneer on his fa

liff, your w

n the post of ministering angel, and guards the fortunes of

ties to make it likely that they were man and wife. One was about forty: a period of mental vigour at which men seldom cherish the delus

gnorance that better individuals existed! A sad pity - I must beware how I cause her to regret her choice.' The last reflection may seem conceited; it was not. My neighbour struck me as bordering on repulsive; I knew, through experience, that I was tolerably attractive. Mrs. Heat

favoured possessor of the beneficent fai

rance of a meditated assault. But he seemed to recollect himself presently, and smothered th

have the privilege of owning your good fairy; her mate is dead. I said

an is - ' 'Not my

attribute the paternity of that bear to him. 'My name is Hareton

eply, laughing internally at the dig

audible. I began to feel unmistakably out of place in that pleasant family circle. The dismal spiritual atmosphere overcame, and more t

I approached a window to examine the weather. A sorrowful sight I saw: dark night coming do

I could not help exclaiming. 'The roads will be buried already; and,

rch. They'll be covered if left in the fold all ni

continued, with r

hich had fallen from the chimney-piece as she restored the tea-canister to its place. The former, when he had deposited his burden, took a critical survey of the room, and in cracked tones grated out - 'Aw wonder h

, sufficiently enraged, stepped towards the aged rascal with an intention of ki

or I'll ask your abduction as a special favour! Stop! look here, Joseph,' she continued, taking a long, dark book from a shelf; 'I'll show you how far I've progressed in the B

ped the elder; 'may the L

you all modelled in wax and clay! and the first who passes the limits I fix shall -

or, hurried out, praying, and ejaculating 'wicked' as he went. I thought her conduct must be prompted

h that face, I'm sure you cannot help being good-hearted. Do point out some landmarks by which I ma

f in a chair, with a candle, and the long book open befor

in a bog or a pit full of snow, your conscien

. They wouldn't let me go to

venience, on such a night,' I cried. 'I want you to tell me my way, n

lah, Joseph and I. Which would you ha

ose are

to stay.' That you may settle with you

d Heathcliff's stern voice from the kitchen entrance. 'As to staying here, I don't kee

a chair in this

it will not suit me to permit any one the range of the

ning against Earnshaw in my haste. It was so dark that I could not see the means of exit; and, as I wandered round, I h

m as far as the

is master, or whatever relation he bore.

mebody must go,' murmured Mrs. Heathcliff, more kindly than I expected. Not at yo

e Mr. Heathcliff will never get another tenant t

ng on 'em!' muttered Joseph, to

ern, which I seized unceremoniously, and, calling out that I w

outed the ancient, pursuing my retreat. 'Hey, Gn

ignant masters pleased to deliver me: then, hatless and trembling with wrath, I ordered the miscreants to let me out - on their peril to keep me one minute longer - with several incoherent threats of retaliation that, in their indefinite depth of virulency, smacked of King Lear. The vehemence of my agitation brought on a copious bleeding at the nose, and still Heathcliff laughed, and still I scolded. I don't know wha

on our very door-stones? I see this house will never do for me - look at t' poor lad, he's fair ch

neck, and pulled me into the kitchen. Mr. Heathcliff followed, hi

cament, and having obeyed his orders, whereby I was somewhat revived, ushered me to bed. WHILE leading the way upstairs, she recommended that I should hide the candle, and not make a noise; for her master had an odd notion about the cha

pproached this structure, I looked inside, and perceived it to be a singular sort of old- fashioned couch, very conveniently designed to obviate the necessity for every member of the family having a room to himself. In fact, it formed a

ng scratched on the paint. This writing, however, was nothing but a name repeated in all kinds of characters, large

ence of cold and lingering nausea, sat up and spread open the injured tome on my knee. It was a Testament, in lean type, and smelling dreadfully musty: a fly-leaf bore the inscription - 'Catherine Earnshaw, her book,' and a date some quarter of a century back. I shut it, and took up another and another, till I had examined all. Catherine's library was select, and its state of dilapidation proved it to have been well used, though not altogether for a legitimate purpose: scarcely one chapter had escaped, a pen-and-ink commen

again. Hindley is a detestable substitute - his conduct to Heathcliff is atroc

a comfortable fire - doing anything but reading their Bibles, I'll answer for it - Heathcliff, myself, and the unhappy ploughboy were commanded to take our prayer-books, and mount

he saw us descending, "What, done already?" On Sunday evenings we used to be permitted to p