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"
Very
well
--
and
I
will
have
some
to
exhibit
to
papa
!
"
I
answered
,
shaking
back
the
rest
into
the
bundle
,
and
turning
anew
to
the
door
.
She
emptied
her
blackened
pieces
into
the
flames
,
and
motioned
me
to
finish
the
immolation
.
It
was
done
;
I
stirred
up
the
ashes
,
and
interred
them
under
a
shovelful
of
coals
;
and
she
mutely
,
and
with
a
sense
of
intense
injury
,
retired
to
her
private
apartment
.
I
descended
to
tell
my
master
that
the
young
lady
's
qualm
of
sickness
was
almost
gone
,
but
I
judged
it
best
for
her
to
lie
down
a
while
.
She
would
n't
dine
;
but
she
reappeared
at
tea
,
pale
,
and
red
about
the
eyes
,
and
marvellously
subdued
in
outward
aspect
.
Next
morning
,
I
answered
the
letter
by
a
slip
of
paper
,
inscribed
,
"
Master
Heathcliff
is
requested
to
send
no
more
notes
to
Miss
Linton
,
as
she
will
not
receive
them
.
"
And
,
thenceforth
,
the
little
boy
came
with
vacant
pockets
.
Summer
drew
to
an
end
,
and
early
autumn
:
it
was
past
Michaelmas
,
but
the
harvest
was
late
that
year
,
and
a
few
of
our
fields
were
still
uncleared
.
Mr.
Linton
and
his
daughter
would
frequently
walk
out
among
the
reapers
;
at
the
carrying
of
the
last
sheaves
,
they
stayed
till
dusk
,
and
the
evening
happening
to
be
chill
and
damp
,
my
master
caught
a
bad
cold
,
that
settled
obstinately
on
his
lungs
,
and
confined
him
indoors
throughout
the
whole
of
the
winter
,
nearly
without
intermission
.
Poor
Cathy
,
frightened
from
her
little
romance
,
had
been
considerably
sadder
and
duller
since
its
abandonment
;
and
her
father
insisted
on
her
reading
less
,
and
taking
more
exercise
.
She
had
his
companionship
no
longer
;
I
esteemed
it
a
duty
to
supply
its
lack
,
as
much
as
possible
,
with
mine
:
an
inefficient
substitute
;
for
I
could
only
spare
two
or
three
hours
,
from
my
numerous
diurnal
occupations
,
to
follow
her
footsteps
,
and
then
my
society
was
obviously
less
desirable
than
his
.
On
an
afternoon
in
October
,
or
the
beginning
of
November
--
a
fresh
watery
afternoon
,
when
the
turf
and
paths
were
rustling
with
moist
,
withered
leaves
,
and
the
cold
,
blue
sky
was
half
hidden
by
clouds
--
dark
grey
streamers
,
rapidly
mounting
from
the
west
,
and
boding
abundant
rain
--
I
requested
my
young
lady
to
forego
her
ramble
,
because
I
was
certain
of
showers
.
She
refused
;
and
I
unwillingly
donned
a
cloak
,
and
took
my
umbrella
to
accompany
her
on
a
stroll
to
the
bottom
of
the
park
:
a
formal
walk
which
she
generally
affected
if
low-spirited
--
and
that
she
invariably
was
when
Mr.
Edgar
had
been
worse
than
ordinary
,
a
thing
never
known
from
his
confession
,
but
guessed
both
by
her
and
me
,
from
his
increased
silence
and
the
melancholy
of
his
countenance
.
She
went
sadly
on
:
there
was
no
running
or
bounding
now
,
though
the
chill
wind
might
well
have
tempted
her
to
race
.
And
often
,
from
the
side
of
my
eve
,
I
could
detect
her
raising
a
hand
,
and
brushing
something
off
her
cheek
.
I
gazed
round
for
a
means
of
diverting
her
thoughts
.
On
one
side
of
the
road
rose
a
high
,
rough
bank
,
where
hazels
and
stunted
oaks
,
with
their
roots
half-exposed
held
uncertain
tenure
:
the
soil
was
too
loose
for
the
latter
;
and
strong
winds
had
blown
some
nearly
horizontal
.
In
summer
,
Miss
Catherine
delighted
to
climb
along
these
trunks
,
and
sit
in
the
branches
,
swinging
twenty
feet
above
the
ground
;
and
I
,
pleased
with
her
agility
and
her
light
,
childish
heart
,
still
considered
it
proper
to
scold
every
time
I
caught
her
at
such
an
elevation
,
but
so
that
she
knew
there
was
no
necessity
for
descending
.
From
dinner
to
tea
she
would
lie
in
her
breeze-rocked
cradle
,
doing
nothing
except
singing
old
songs
--
my
nursery
lore
--
to
herself
,
or
watching
the
birds
,
joint
tenants
,
feed
and
entice
their
young
ones
to
fly
:
or
nestling
with
closed
lids
,
half
thinking
,
half
dreaming
,
happier
than
words
can
express
.
"
Look
,
miss
!
"
I
exclaimed
,
pointing
to
a
nook
under
the
roots
of
one
twisted
tree
.
"
Winter
is
not
here
yet
.
There
's
a
little
flower
up
yonder
,
the
last
bud
from
the
multitude
of
bluebells
that
clouded
those
turf
steps
in
July
with
a
lilac
mist
.
Will
you
clamber
up
,
and
pluck
it
to
show
to
papa
?
"
Cathy
stared
a
long
time
at
the
lonely
blossom
trembling
in
its
earthy
shelter
,
and
replied
,
at
length
:
"
No
,
I
'll
not
touch
it
;
but
it
looks
melancholy
,
does
it
not
,
Ellen
?
"
