Wuthering Heights

the right, or left, when I imagined I was following, correctly, the windings of the road.
    We exchanged little conversation, and he halted at the entrance of Thrushcross park, saying, I could make no error there. Our adieux were limited to a hasty bow, and then I pushed forward, trusting to my own resources, for the porter's lodge is untenanted as yet.
    The distance from the gate to the Grange is two miles: I believe I managed to make it four; what with losing myself among the trees, and sinking up to the neck in snow, a predicament which only those who have experienced it can appreciate. At any rate, whatever were my wanderings, the clock chimed twelve as I entered the house; and that gave exactly an hour for every mile of the usual way from Wuthering Heights.
    My human fixture, and her satellites rushed to welcome me; exclaiming, tumultuously, they had completely given me up; everybody conjectured that I perished last night; and they were wondering how they must set about the search for my remains.
    I bid them be quiet, now that they saw me returned, and, benumbed to my very heart, I dragged up-stairs, whence, after putting on dry clothes, and pacing to and fro, thirty or forty minutes, to restore the animal heat, I am adjourned to my study, feeble as a kitten, almost too much so to enjoy the cheerful fire, and smoking coffee which the servant has prepared for my refreshment.
     
     
Chapter IV
    What vain weather-cocks we are! I, who had determined to hold myself independent of all social intercourse, and thanked my stars that, at length, I had lighted on a spot where it was next to impracticable. I, weak wretch, after maintaining till dusk a struggle with low spirits, and solitude, was finally compelled to strike my colours; and, under pretence of gaining information concerning the necessities of my establishment, I desired Mrs. Dean, when she brought in supper, to sit down while I ate it, hoping sincerely she would prove a regular gossip, and either rouse me to animation, or lull me to sleep by her talk.
    »You have lived here a considerable time,« I commenced; »did you not say sixteen years?«
    »Eighteen, sir; I came, when the mistress was married, to wait on her; after she died, the master retained me for his house-keeper.«
    »Indeed.«
    There ensued a pause. She was not a gossip, I feared, unless about her own affairs, and those could hardly interest me.
    However, having studied for an interval, with a fist on either knee, and a cloud of meditation over her ruddy countenance, she ejaculated –
    »Ah, times are greatly changed since then!«
    »Yes,« I remarked, »you've seen a good many alterations, I suppose?«
    »I have: and troubles too,« she said.
    »Oh, I'll turn the talk on my landlord's family!« I thought to myself. »A good subject to start – and that pretty girl-widow, I should like to know her history; whether she be a native of the country, or, as is more probable, an exotic that the surly indigenae will not recognise for kin.«
    With this intention I asked Mrs. Dean why Heathcliff let Thrushcross Grange, and preferred living in a situation and residence so much inferior.
    »Is he not rich enough to keep the estate in good order?« I enquired.
    »Rich, sir!« she returned. »He has, nobody knows what money, and every year it increases. Yes, yes, he's rich enough to live in a finer house than this; but he's very near – close-handed; and, if he had meant to flit to Thrushcross Grange, as soon as he heard of a good tenant, he could not have borne to miss the chance of getting a few hundreds more. It is strange people should be so greedy, when they are alone in the world!«
    »He had a son, it seems?«
    »Yes, he had one – he is dead.«
    »And that young lady, Mrs. Heathcliff, is his widow?«
    »Yes.«
    »Where did she come from originally?«
    »Why, sir, she is my late master's daughter; Catherine Linton was her maiden name. I nursed her, poor thing! I did wish Mr. Heathcliff would remove here, and then we might have been together again.«
    »What, Catherine Linton!« I exclaimed, astonished. But a minute's reflection convinced me it was not my ghostly Catherine. »Then,« I continued, »my predecessor's name was Linton?«
    »It was.«
    »And who is that Earnshaw, Hareton Earnshaw, who lives with Mr. Heathcliff? are they relations?«
    »No; he is the late Mrs. Linton's nephew.«
    »The young lady's cousin then?«
    »Yes; and her husband was her cousin also – one, on the mother's – the