Wuthering Heights

a savage beast getting goaded to death with knives and spears.
    I observed several splashes of blood about the bark of the tree, and his hand and forehead were both stained; probably the scene I witnessed was a repetition of others acted during the night. It hardly moved my compassion – it appalled me; still I felt reluctant to quit him so. But the moment he recollected himself enough to notice me watching, he thundered a command for me to go, and I obeyed. He was beyond my skill to quiet or console!
    Mrs. Linton's funeral was appointed to take place on the Friday following her decease; and till then her coffin remained uncovered, and strewn with flowers and scented leaves, in the great drawing-room. Linton spent his days and nights there, a sleepless guardian; and – a circumstance concealed from all but me – Heathcliff spent his nights, at least, outside, equally a stranger to repose.
    I held no communication with him; still I was conscious of his design to enter, if he could; and on the Tuesday, a little after dark, when my master from sheer fatigue, had been compelled to retire a couple of hours, I went and opened one of the windows, moved by his perseverance to give him a chance of bestowing on the fading image of his idol one final adieu.
    He did not omit to avail himself of the opportunity, cautiously and briefly; too cautiously to betray his presence by the slightest noise; indeed, I shouldn't have discovered that he had been there, except for the disarrangement of the drapery about the corpse's face, and for observing on the floor a curl of light hair, fastened with a silver thread, which, on examination, I ascertained to have been taken from a locket hung round Catherine's neck. Heathcliff had opened the trinket, and cast out its contents, replacing them by a black lock of his own. I twisted the two, and enclosed them together.
    Mr. Earnshaw was, of course, invited to attend the remains of his sister to the grave; and he sent no excuse, but he never came; so that besides her husband, the mourners were wholly composed of tenants and servants. Isabella was not asked.
    The place of Catherine's interment, to the surprise of the villagers, was neither in the chapel, under the carved monument of the Lintons, nor yet by the tombs of her own relations, outside. It was dug on a green slope, in a corner of the kirkyard, where the wall is so low that heath and bilberry plants have climbed over it from the moor; and peat mould almost buries it. Her husband lies in the same spot, now; and they have each a simple headstone, above, and a plain grey block at their feet, to mark the graves.
     

 
Chapter XVII
    That Friday made the last of our fine days, for a month. In the evening, the weather broke; the wind shifted from south to north-east, and brought rain, first, and then sleet, and snow.
    On the morrow one could hardly imagine that there had been three weeks of summer: the primroses and crocuses were hidden under wintry drifts: the larks were silent, the young leaves of the early trees smitten and blackened – And dreary, and chill, and dismal that morrow did creep over! My master kept his room – I took possession of the lonely parlour, converting it into a nursery; and there I was sitting, with the moaning doll of a child laid on my knee; rocking it to and fro, and watching, meanwhile, the still driving flakes build up the uncurtained window, when the door opened, and some person entered out of breath, and laughing!
    My anger was greater than my astonishment for a minute; I supposed it one of the maids, and I cried,
    »Have done! How dare you show your giddiness, here? What would Mr. Linton say if he heard you?«
    »Excuse me!« answered a familiar voice, »but I know Edgar is in bed, and I cannot stop myself.«
    With that, the speaker came forward to the fire, panting and holding her hand, to her side.
    »I have run the whole way from Wuthering Heights!« she continued, after a pause. »Except where I've flown – I couldn't count the number of falls I've had – Oh, I'm aching all over! Don't be alarmed – There shall be an explanation as soon as I can give it – only just have the goodness to step out, and order the carriage to take me on to Gimmerton, and tell a servant to seek up a few clothes in my wardrobe.«
    The intruder was Mrs. Heathcliff – she certainly seemed in no laughing predicament: her hair streamed on her shoulders dripping with snow and water; she was dressed in the girlish dress she