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1I began to dream, almost before I ceased to be sensible of my locality. I thought it was morning; and I had set out on
2my way home, with Joseph for a guide. The snow lay yards deep in our road; and, as we floundered on, my companion
3wearied me with constant reproaches that I had not brought a pilgrim's staff: telling me that I could never get into the
4house without one, and boastfully flourishing a heavy-headed cudgel, which I understood to be so denominated. For a
5moment I considered it absurd that I should need such a weapon to gain admittance into my own residence. Then a new idea
6flashed across me. I was not going there: we were journeying to hear the famous Jabez Branderham preach, from the
7text--"Seventy Times Seven;" and either Joseph, the preacher, or I had committed the "First of the Seventy-First," and
8were to be publicly exposed and excommunicated. We came to the chapel. I have passed it really in my walks, twice or
9thrice; it lies in a hollow, between two hills: an elevated hollow, near a swamp, whose peaty moisture is said to answer
10all the purposes of embalming on the few corpses deposited there. The roof has been kept whole hitherto; but as the
11clergyman's stipend is only twenty pounds per annum, and a house with two rooms, threatening speedily to determine into
12one, no clergyman will undertake the duties of pastor: especially as it is currently reported that his flock would
13rather let him starve than increase the living by one penny from their own pockets. However, in my dream, Jabez had a
14full and attentive congregation; and he preached--good God! what a sermon; divided into four hundred and ninety parts,
15each fully equal to an ordinary address from the pulpit, and each discussing a separate sin! Where he searched for them,
16I cannot tell. He had his private manner of interpreting the phrase, and it seemed necessary the brother should sin
17different sins on every occasion. They were of the most curious character: odd transgressions that I never imagined
18previously. Oh, how weary I grew. How I writhed, and yawned, and nodded, and revived! How I pinched and pricked myself,
19and rubbed my eyes, and stood up, and sat down again, and nudged Joseph to inform me if he would ever have done. I was
20condemned to hear all out: finally, he reached the "First of the Seventy-First." At that crisis, a sudden inspiration
21descended on me; I was moved to rise and denounce Jabez Branderham as the sinner of the sin that no Christian need
22pardon. "Sir," I exclaimed, "sitting here within these four walls, at one stretch, I have endured and forgiven the four
23hundred and ninety heads of your discourse. Seventy times seven times have I plucked up my hat and been about to
24depart--Seventy times seven times have you preposterously forced me to resume my seat. The four hundred and ninety-first
25is too much. Fellow-martyrs, have at him! Drag him down, and crush him to atoms, that the place which knows him may know
26him no more!" "Thou art the Man!" cried Jabez, after a solemn pause, leaning over his cushion. "Seventy times seven
27times didst thou gapingly contort thy visage--seventy times seven did I take counsel with my soul--Lo, this is human
28weakness: this also may be absolved! The First of the Seventy-First is come. Brethren, execute upon him the judgment
29written. Such honour have all His saints!" With that concluding word, the whole assembly, exalting their pilgrim's
30staves, rushed round me in a body; and I, having no weapon to raise in self-defence, commenced grappling with Joseph, my
31nearest and most ferocious assailant, for his. In the confluence of the multitude, several clubs crossed; blows, aimed
32at me, fell on other sconces. Presently the whole chapel resounded with rappings and counter rappings: every man's hand
33was against his neighbour; and Branderham, unwilling to remain idle, poured forth his zeal in a shower of loud taps on
34the boards of the pulpit, which responded so smartly that, at last, to my unspeakable relief, they woke me. And what was
35it that had suggested the tremendous tumult? What had played Jabez's part in the row? Merely the branch of a fir-tree
36that touched my lattice as the blast wailed by, and rattled its dry cones against the panes! I listened doubtingly an
37instant; detected the disturber, then turned and dozed, and dreamt again: if possible, still more disagreeably than
38before. This time, I remembered I was lying in the oak closet, and I heard distinctly the gusty wind, and the driving of
39the snow; I heard, also, the fir bough repeat its teasing sound, and ascribed it to the right cause: but it annoyed me
40so much, that I resolved to silence it, if possible; and, I thought, I rose and endeavoured to unhasp the casement. The
41hook was soldered into the staple: a circumstance observed by me when awake, but forgotten. "I must stop it,
42nevertheless!" I muttered, knocking my knuckles through the glass, and stretching an arm out to seize the importunate
43branch; instead of which, my fingers closed on the fingers of a little, ice-cold hand! The intense horror of nightmare
44came over me: I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and a most melancholy voice sobbed, "Let me in--let
45me in!" "Who are you?" I asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage myself. "Catherine Linton," it replied, shiveringly
46(why did I think of Linton? I had read Earnshaw twenty times for Linton)--"I'm come home: I'd lost my way on the moor!"
47As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a child's face looking through the window. Terror made me cruel; and, finding it
48useless to attempt shaking the creature off, I pulled its wrist on to the broken pane, and rubbed it to and fro till the
49blood ran down and soaked the bedclothes: still it wailed, "Let me in!" and maintained its tenacious gripe, almost
50maddening me with fear. "How can I!" I said at length. "Let me go, if you want me to let you in!" The fingers relaxed, I
51snatched mine through the hole, hurriedly piled the books up in a pyramid against it, and stopped my ears to exclude the
52lamentable prayer. I seemed to keep them closed above a quarter of an hour; yet, the instant I listened again, there was
53the doleful cry moaning on! "Begone!" I shouted. "I'll never let you in, not if you beg for twenty years." "It is twenty
54years," mourned the voice: "twenty years. I've been a waif for twenty years!" Thereat began a feeble scratching outside,
55and the pile of books moved as if thrust forward. I tried to jump up; but could not stir a limb; and so yelled aloud, in
56a frenzy of fright. To my confusion, I discovered the yell was not ideal: hasty footsteps approached my chamber door;
57somebody pushed it open, with a vigorous hand, and a light glimmered through the squares at the top of the bed. I sat
58shuddering, yet, and wiping the perspiration from my forehead: the intruder appeared to hesitate, and muttered to
59himself. At last, he said, in a half-whisper, plainly not expecting an answer, "Is any one here?" I considered it best
60to confess my presence; for I knew Heathcliff's accents, and feared he might search further, if I kept quiet. With this
61intention, I turned and opened the panels. I shall not soon forget the effect my action produced. Heathcliff stood near
62the entrance, in his shirt and trousers; with a candle dripping over his fingers, and his face as white as the wall
63behind him. The first creak of the oak startled him like an electric shock: the light leaped from his hold to a distance
64of some feet, and his agitation was so extreme, that he could hardly pick it up. "It is only your guest, sir," I called
65out, desirous to spare him the humiliation of exposing his cowardice further. "I had the misfortune to scream in my
66sleep, owing to a frightful nightmare. I'm sorry I disturbed you." "Oh, God confound you, Mr. Lockwood! I wish you were
67at the--" commenced my host, setting the candle on a chair, because he found it impossible to hold it steady. "And who
68showed you up into this room?" he continued, crushing his nails into his palms, and grinding his teeth to subdue the
69maxillary convulsions. "Who was it? I've a good mind to turn them out of the house this moment!"
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