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Wuthering Heights

Chapter 29
THE evening after the funeral, my young lady and I were seated in the library; now
musing mournfully---one of us despairingly---on our loss, now venturing conjectures as
to the gloomy future.
We had just agreed the best destiny which could await Catherine, would be a permission
to continue resident at the Grange; at least, during Linton's life: he being allowed to join
her there, and I to remain as housekeeper. That seemed rather too favourable an
arrangement to be hoped for: and yet I did hope, and began to cheer up under the prospect
of retaining my home and my employment, and, above all, my beloved young mistress;
when a servant---one of the discarded ones, not yet departed---rushed hastily in, and said
"that devil Heathcliff" was coming through the court: should he fasten the door in his
face?
If we had been mad enough to order that proceeding, we had not time. He made no
ceremony of knocking or announcing his name: he was master, and availed himself of the
master's privilege to walk straight in, without saying a word. The sound of our
informant's voice directed him to the library: he entered, and motioning him out, shut the
door.
It was the same room into which he had been ushered, as a guest, eighteen years before:
the same moon shone through the window; and the same autumn landscape lay outside.
We had not yet lighted a candle, but all the apartment was visible, even to the portraits on
the wall: the splendid head of Mrs. Linton, and the graceful one of her husband.
Heathcliff advanced to the hearth. Time had little altered his person either. There was the
same man: his dark face rather sallower and more composed, his frame a stone or two
heavier, perhaps, and no other difference. Catherine had risen, with an impulse to dash
out, when she saw him.
"Stop!" he said, arresting her by the arm. "No more runnings away! Where would you
go? I'm come to fetch you home; and I hope you'll be a dutiful daughter, and not
encourage my son to further disobedience. I was embarrassed how to punish him when I
discovered his part in the business: he's such a cobweb, a pinch would annihilate him; but
you'll see by his look that he has received his due! I brought him down one evening, the
day before yesterday, and just set him in a chair, and never touched him afterwards. I sent
Hareton out, and we had the room to ourselves. In two hours, I called Joseph to carry him
up again; and since then my presence is as potent on his nerves as a ghost; and I fancy he
sees me often, though I am not near. Hareton says he wakes and shrieks in the night by
the hour together, and calls you to protect him from me; and, whether you like your
precious mate or not, you must come; he's your concern now; I yield all my interest in
him to you."
 
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