Wuthering Heights

thee!‹
    I took hold of Linton's hands, and tried to pull him away; but he shrieked so shockingly that I dared not proceed. At last, his cries were choked by a dreadful fit of coughing; blood gushed from his mouth, and he fell on the ground.
    I ran into the yard, sick with terror; and called for Zillah, as loud as I could. She soon heard me; she was milking the cows in a shed behind the barn; and hurrying from her work, she inquired what there was to do?
    I hadn't breath to explain; dragging her in, I looked about for Linton. Earnshaw had come out to examine the mischief he had caused, and he was then conveying the poor thing up-stairs. Zillah and I ascended after him; but, he stopped me, at the top of the steps, and said I shouldn't go in, I must go home.
    I exclaimed that he had killed Linton and I
would
enter.
    Joseph locked the door, and declared I should do ›no sich stuff,‹ and asked me whether I were ›bahn to be as mad as him.‹
    I stood crying, till the housekeeper re-appeared; she affirmed that he would be better in a bit; but he couldn't do with that shrieking, and din, and she took me, and nearly, carried me into the house.
    Ellen, I was ready to tear my hair off my head! I sobbed and wept so that my eyes were almost blind: and the ruffian you have such sympathy with, stood opposite; presuming every now and then, to bid me ›wisht,‹ and denying that it was his fault; and finally, frightened by my assertions that I would tell papa, and that he should be put in prison, and hanged, he commenced blubbering himself, and hurried out to hide his cowardly agitation.
    Still, I was not rid of him: when at length they compelled me to depart, and I had got some hundred yards off the premises, he suddenly issued from the shadow of the road-side, and checked Minny and took hold of me.
    ›Miss Catherine, I'm ill grieved,‹ he began, ›but it's rayther too bad –‹
    I gave him a cut with my whip, thinking, perhaps he would murder me – He let go, thundering one of his horrid curses, and I gallopped home more than half out of my senses.
    I didn't bid you good-night, that evening; and I didn't go to Wuthering Heights, the next – I wished to, exceedingly; but I was strangely excited, and dreaded to hear that Linton was dead, sometimes; and sometimes shuddered at the thought of encountering Hareton.
    On the third day I took courage; at least, I couldn't bear longer suspense and stole off, once more. I went at five o'clock, and walked, fancying I might manage to creep into the house, and up to Linton's room, unobserved. However, the dogs gave notice of my approach: Zillah received me, and saying ›the lad was mending nicely,‹ showed me into a small, tidy, carpeted apartment, where, to my inexpressible joy, I beheld Linton laid on a little sofa, reading one of my books. But he would neither speak to me, nor look at me, through a whole hour, Ellen – He has such an unhappy temper – and what quite confounded me, when he did open his mouth it was to utter the falsehood, that I had occasioned the uproar, and Hareton was not to blame!«
    »Unable to reply, except passionately, I got up, and walked from the room. He sent after me a faint ›Catherine!‹ he did not reckon on being answered so – but I wouldn't turn back; and the morrow was the second day on which I stayed at home, nearly determined to visit him no more.
    But it was so miserable going to bed, and getting up, and never hearing anything about him, that my resolution again melted into air, before it was properly formed. It
had
appeared wrong to take the journey once; now it seemed wrong to refrain. Michael came to ask if he must saddle Minny; I said ›Yes,‹ and considered myself doing a duty as she bore me over the hills.
    I was forced to pass the front windows to get to the court; it was no use trying to conceal my presence.
    ›Young master is in the house,‹ said Zillah, as she saw me making for the parlour.
    I went in, Earnshaw was there also, but he quitted the room directly. Linton sat in the great arm chair half asleep; walking up to the fire, I began in a serious tone, partly meaning it to be true.
    ›As you don't like me Linton, and as you think I come on purpose to hurt you, and pretend that I do so every time, this is our last meeting – let us say goodbye; and tell Mr. Heathcliff that you have no wish to see me, and that he mustn't invent any more falsehoods on the subject.‹
    ›Sit down and take your hat off, Catherine,‹ he