Wuthering Heights

»The night through,« he repeated. »What kept her up, not fear of the thunder, surely? That was over, hours since.«
    Neither of us wished to mention Heathcliff's absence, as long as we could conceal it; so, I replied, I didn't know how she took it into her head to sit up; and she said nothing.
    The morning was fresh and cool; I threw back the lattice, and presently the room filled with sweet scents from the garden: but Catherine called peevishly to me.
    »Ellen, shut the window. I'm starving!« And her teeth chattered as she shrunk closer to the almost extinguished embers.
    »She's ill –« said Hindley, taking her wrist; »I suppose that's the reason she would not go to bed – Damn it! I don't want to be troubled with more sickness, here – What took you into the rain?«
    »Running after t' lads, as usuald!« croaked Joseph, catching an opportunity, from our hesitation, to thrust in his evil tongue.
    »If Aw wur yah, maister, Aw'd just slam t' boards i' their faces all on 'em, gentle and simple! Never a day ut yah're off, but yon cat uh Linton comes sneaking hither – and Miss Nelly, shoo's a fine lass! shoo sits watching for ye i' t' kitchen; and as yah're in at one door, he's aht at t'other – Und, then, wer grand lady goes a coorting uf hor side! It's bonny behaviour, lurking amang t' fields, after twelve ut' night, wi' that fahl, flaysome divil of a gipsy, Heathcliff! They think
Aw'm
blind; but Aw'm noan, now't ut t' soart! Aw seed young Linton, boath coming and going, and Aw seed
yah
(directing his discourse to me) Yah gooid fur nowt, slattenly witch! nip up und bolt intuh th' hahs, t' minute yah heard t' maister's horse fit clatter up t' road.«
    »Silence, eavesdropper!« cried Catherine, »None of your insolence, before me! Edgar Linton, came yesterday, by chance, Hindley: and it was
I
who told him to be off: because, I knew you would not like to have met him as you were.«
    »You lie, Cathy, no doubt,« answered her brother, »and you are a confounded simpleton! But, never mind Linton, at present – Tell me, were you not with Heathcliff, last night? Speak the truth, now. You need not be afraid of harming him – Though I hate him as much as ever, he did me a good turn, a short time since, that will make my conscience tender of breaking his neck. To prevent it, I shall send him about his business, this very morning; and after he's gone, I'd advise you all to look sharp, I shall only have the more humour for you!«
    »I never saw Heathcliff last night,« answered Catherine, beginning to sob bitterly: »and if you do turn him out of doors, I'll go with him. But, perhaps, you'll never have an opportunity – perhaps, he's gone.« Here she burst into uncontrollable grief, and the remainder of her words were inarticulate.
    Hindley lavished on her a torrent of scornful abuse, and bid her get to her room immediately, or she shouldn't cry for nothing! I obliged her to obey; and I shall never forget what a scene she acted, when we reached her chamber. It terrified me – I thought she was going mad, and I begged Joseph to run for the doctor.
    It proved the commencement of delirium; Mr. Kenneth, as soon as he saw her, pronounced her dangerously ill; she had a fever.
    He bled her, and he told me to let her live on whey, and water gruel; and take care she did not throw herself down stairs, or out of the window; and then he left; for, he had enough to do in the parish where two or three miles was the ordinary distance between cottage and cottage.
    Though I cannot say I made a gentle nurse, and Joseph and the master were no better; and though our patient was as wearisome and headstrong as a patient could be, she weathered it through.
    Old Mrs. Linton paid us several visits, to be sure; and set things to rights, and scolded, and ordered us all; and when Catherine was convalescent, she insisted on conveying her to Thrushcross Grange; for which deliverance we were very grateful. But, the poor dame had reason to repent of her kindness; she, and her husband, both took the fever, and died within a few days of each other.
    Our young lady returned to us, saucier, and more passionate, and haughtier than ever. Heathcliff had never been heard of since the evening of the thunder-storm, and, one day, I had the misfortune, when she had provoked me exceedingly, to lay the blame of his disappearance on her (where indeed it belonged, as she well knew.) From that period for several months, she ceased to hold any communication with