Wuthering Heights

moors, I laid it to the charge of a hot fire in the library.
     
     
Chapter XXIV
    At the close of three weeks, I was able to quit my chamber, and move about the house. And on the first occasion of my sitting up in the evening, I asked Catherine to read to me, because my eyes were weak. We were in the library, the master having gone to bed: she consented, rather unwillingly, I fancied; and imagining my sort of books did not suit her, I bid her please herself in the choice of what she perused.
    She selected one of her own favourites, and got forward steadily about an hour; then came frequent questions.
    »Ellen, are not you tired? Hadn't you better lie down now? You'll be sick, keeping up so long, Ellen.«
    »No, no, dear, I'm not tired,« I returned, continually.
    Perceiving me immovable, she essayed another method of showing her dis-relish for her occupation. It changed to yawning, and stretching, and –
    »Ellen, I'm tired.«
    »Give over then and talk,« I answered.
    That was worse; she fretted and sighed, and looked at her watch till eight; and finally went to her room, completely overdone with sleep, judging by her peevish, heavy look, and the constant rubbing she inflicted on her eyes.
    The following night she seemed more impatient still; and on the third from recovering my company, she complained of a head-ache, and left me.
    I thought her conduct odd; and having remained alone a long while, I was resolved on going, and inquiring whether she were better, and asking her to come and lie on the sofa, instead of up stairs, in the dark.
    No Catherine could I discover up stairs, and none below. The servants affirmed they had not seen her. I listened at Mr. Edgar's door – all was silence. I returned to her apartment, extinguished my candle, and seated myself in the window.
    The moon shone bright; a sprinkling of snow covered the ground, and I reflected that she might, possibly, have taken it into her head to walk about the garden, for refreshment. I did detect a figure creeping along the inner fence of the park; but it was not my young mistress; on its emerging into the light, I recognized one of the grooms.
    He stood a considerable period, viewing the carriage road through the grounds; then started off at a brisk pace, as if he had detected something, and reappeared, presently, leading Miss's pony; and there she was, just dismounted, and walking by its side.
    The man took his charge stealthily across the grass towards the stable. Cathy entered by the casement-window of the drawing-room, and glided noiselessly up to where I awaited her.
    She put the door gently to, slipped off her snowy shoes, untied her hat, and was proceeding, unconscious of my espionage, to lay aside her mantle, when I suddenly rose, and revealed myself. The surprise petrified her an instant: she uttered an inarticulate exclamation, and stood fixed.
    »My dear Miss Catherine,« I began, too vividly impressed by her recent kindness to break into a scold, »where have you been riding out at this hour? And why should you try to deceive me, by telling a tale. Where have you been? Speak!«
    »To the bottom of the park,« she stammered. »I didn't tell a tale.«
    »And no where else?« I demanded.
    »No,« was the muttered reply.
    »Oh, Catherine,« I cried, sorrowfully. »You know you have been doing wrong, or you wouldn't be driven to uttering an untruth to me. That does grieve me. I'd rather be three months ill, than hear you frame a deliberate lie.«
    She sprang forward, and bursting into tears, threw her arms round my neck.
    »Well Ellen, I'm so afraid of you being angry,« she said. »Promise not to be angry, and you shall know the very truth. I hate to hide it.«
    We sat down in the window-seat; I assured her I would not scold, whatever her secret might be, and I guessed it, of course, so she commenced –
    »I've been to Wuthering Heights, Ellen, and I've never missed going a day since you fell ill; except thrice before, and twice after you left your room. I gave Michael books and pictures to prepare Minny every evening, and to put her back in the stable; you mustn't scold
him
either, mind. I was at the Heights by half-past six, and generally stayed till half-past eight, and then gallopped home. It was not to amuse myself that I went; I was often wretched all the time. Now and then, I was happy, once in a week perhaps. At first, I expected there would be sad work persuading you to let me keep my word to Linton, for I had engaged to call again