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About
twelve
o'clock
that
night
,
was
born
the
Catherine
you
saw
at
Wuthering
Heights
:
a
puny
,
seven
months
'
child
;
and
two
hours
after
the
mother
died
,
having
never
recovered
sufficient
consciousness
to
miss
Heathcliff
,
or
know
Edgar
.
The
latter
's
distraction
at
his
bereavement
is
a
subject
too
painful
to
be
dwelt
on
;
its
after
effects
showed
how
deep
the
sorrow
sunk
.
A
great
addition
,
in
my
eyes
,
was
his
being
left
without
an
heir
.
I
bemoaned
that
,
as
I
gazed
on
the
feeble
orphan
;
and
I
mentally
abused
old
Linton
for
(
what
was
only
natural
partiality
)
the
securing
his
estate
to
his
own
daughter
,
instead
of
his
son
's
.
An
unwelcomed
infant
it
was
,
poor
thing
!
It
might
have
wailed
out
of
life
,
and
nobody
cared
a
morsel
,
during
those
first
hours
of
existence
.
We
redeemed
the
neglect
afterwards
;
but
its
beginning
was
as
friendless
as
its
end
is
likely
to
be
.
Next
morning
--
bright
and
cheerful
out
of
doors
--
stole
softened
in
through
the
blinds
of
the
silent
room
,
and
suffused
the
couch
and
its
occupant
with
a
mellow
,
tender
glow
.
Edgar
Linton
had
his
head
laid
on
the
pillow
,
and
his
eyes
shut
.
His
young
and
fair
features
were
almost
as
deathlike
as
those
of
the
form
beside
him
,
and
almost
as
fixed
:
but
his
was
the
hush
of
exhausted
anguish
,
and
hers
of
perfect
peace
.
Her
brow
smooth
,
her
lids
closed
,
her
lips
wearing
the
expression
of
a
smile
;
no
angel
in
heaven
could
be
more
beautiful
than
she
appeared
.
And
I
partook
of
the
infinite
calm
in
which
she
lay
:
my
mind
was
never
in
a
holier
frame
than
while
I
gazed
on
that
untroubled
image
of
Divine
rest
.
I
instinctively
echoed
the
words
she
had
uttered
a
few
hours
before
:
"
Incomparably
beyond
and
above
us
all
!
Whether
still
on
earth
or
now
in
heaven
,
her
spirit
is
at
home
with
God
!
"
I
do
n't
know
if
it
be
a
peculiarity
in
me
,
but
I
am
seldom
otherwise
than
happy
while
watching
in
the
chamber
of
death
,
should
no
frenzied
or
despairing
mourner
share
the
duty
with
me
.
I
see
a
repose
that
neither
earth
nor
hell
can
break
,
and
I
feel
an
assurance
of
the
endless
and
shadowless
hereafter
--
the
Eternity
they
have
entered
--
where
life
is
boundless
in
its
duration
,
and
love
in
its
sympathy
,
and
joy
in
its
fulness
.
I
noticed
on
that
occasion
how
much
selfishness
there
is
even
in
a
love
like
Mr.
Linton
's
,
when
he
so
regretted
Catherine
's
blessed
release
!
To
be
sure
,
one
might
have
doubted
,
after
the
wayward
and
impatient
existence
she
had
led
,
whether
,
she
merited
a
haven
of
peace
at
last
.
One
might
doubt
in
seasons
of
cold
reflection
;
but
not
then
,
in
the
presence
of
her
corpse
.
It
asserted
its
own
tranquillity
,
which
seemed
a
pledge
of
equal
quiet
to
its
former
inhabitants
.
Do
you
believe
such
people
are
happy
in
the
other
world
,
sir
?
I
'd
give
a
great
deal
to
know
.
I
declined
answering
Mrs.
Dean
's
question
,
which
struck
me
as
something
very
heterodox
.
She
proceeded
--
Retracing
the
course
of
Catherine
Linton
,
I
fear
we
have
no
right
to
think
she
is
;
but
we
'll
leave
her
with
her
Maker
.
The
master
looked
asleep
,
and
I
ventured
soon
after
sunrise
to
quit
the
room
and
steal
out
to
the
pure
refreshing
air
.
The
servants
thought
me
gone
to
shake
off
the
drowsiness
of
my
protracted
watch
;
in
reality
,
my
chief
motive
was
seeing
Mr.
Heathcliff
.
If
he
had
remained
among
the
larches
all
night
,
he
would
have
heard
nothing
of
the
stir
at
the
Grange
;
unless
,
perhaps
,
he
might
catch
the
gallop
of
the
messenger
going
to
Gimmerton
.
If
he
had
come
nearer
,
he
would
probably
be
aware
,
from
the
lights
flitting
to
and
fro
,
and
the
opening
and
shutting
of
the
outer
doors
,
that
all
was
not
right
within
.
I
wished
,
yet
feared
,
to
find
him
.
I
felt
the
terrible
news
must
be
told
,
and
I
longed
to
get
it
over
;
but
how
to
do
it
,
I
did
not
know
.
He
was
there
--
at
least
a
few
yards
further
in
the
park
;
leant
against
an
old
ash
tree
,
his
hat
off
,
and
his
hair
soaked
with
the
dew
that
had
gathered
on
the
budded
branches
,
and
fell
pattering
round
him
.
He
had
been
standing
a
long
time
in
that
position
,
for
I
saw
a
pair
of
ousels
passing
and
repassing
scarcely
three
feet
from
him
,
busy
in
building
their
nest
and
regarding
his
proximity
no
more
than
that
of
a
piece
of
timber
.
They
flew
off
at
my
approach
,
and
he
raised
his
eyes
and
spoke
--
"
She
's
dead
!
"
he
said
;
"
I
've
not
waited
for
you
to
learn
that
.
Put
your
handkerchief
away
--
do
n't
snivel
before
me
.
Damn
you
all
!
she
wants
none
of
your
tears
!
"
