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1About twelve o'clock that night was born the Catherine you saw at Wuthering Heights: a puny, seven-months' child; and
2two hours after the mother died, having never recovered sufficient consciousness to miss Heathcliff, or know Edgar. The
3latter's distraction at his bereavement is a subject too painful to be dwelt on; its after-effects showed how deep the
4sorrow sunk. A great addition, in my eyes, was his being left without an heir. I bemoaned that, as I gazed on the feeble
5orphan; and I mentally abused old Linton for (what was only natural partiality) the securing his estate to his own
6daughter, instead of his son's. An unwelcomed infant it was, poor thing! It might have wailed out of life, and nobody
7cared a morsel, during those first hours of existence. We redeemed the neglect afterwards; but its beginning was as
8friendless as its end is likely to be. Next morning--bright and cheerful out of doors--stole softened in through the
9blinds of the silent room, and suffused the couch and its occupant with a mellow, tender glow. Edgar Linton had his head
10laid on the pillow, and his eyes shut. His young and fair features were almost as deathlike as those of the form beside
11him, and almost as fixed: but his was the hush of exhausted anguish, and hers of perfect peace. Her brow smooth, her
12lids closed, her lips wearing the expression of a smile; no angel in heaven could be more beautiful than she appeared.
13And I partook of the infinite calm in which she lay: my mind was never in a holier frame than while I gazed on that
14untroubled image of Divine rest. I instinctively echoed the words she had uttered a few hours before: "Incomparably
15beyond and above us all! Whether still on earth or now in heaven, her spirit is at home with God!" I don't know if it be
16a peculiarity in me, but I am seldom otherwise than happy while watching in the chamber of death, should no frenzied or
17despairing mourner share the duty with me. I see a repose that neither earth nor hell can break, and I feel an assurance
18of the endless and shadowless hereafter--the Eternity they have entered--where life is boundless in its duration, and
19love in its sympathy, and joy in its fulness. I noticed on that occasion how much selfishness there is even in a love
20like Mr. Linton's, when he so regretted Catherine's blessed release! To be sure, one might have doubted, after the
21wayward and impatient existence she had led, whether she merited a haven of peace at last. One might doubt in seasons of
22cold reflection; but not then, in the presence of her corpse. It asserted its own tranquillity, which seemed a pledge of
23equal quiet to its former inhabitant. Do you believe such people are happy in the other world, sir? I'd give a great
24deal to know. I declined answering Mrs. Dean's question, which struck me as something heterodox. She proceeded:
25Retracing the course of Catherine Linton, I fear we have no right to think she is; but we'll leave her with her Maker.
26The master looked asleep, and I ventured soon after sunrise to quit the room and steal out to the pure refreshing air.
27The servants thought me gone to shake off the drowsiness of my protracted watch; in reality, my chief motive was seeing
28Mr. Heathcliff. If he had remained among the larches all night, he would have heard nothing of the stir at the Grange;
29unless, perhaps, he might catch the gallop of the messenger going to Gimmerton. If he had come nearer, he would probably
30be aware, from the lights flitting to and fro, and the opening and shutting of the outer doors, that all was not right
31within. I wished, yet feared, to find him. I felt the terrible news must be told, and I longed to get it over; but how
32to do it I did not know. He was there--at least, a few yards further in the park; leant against an old ash-tree, his hat
33off, and his hair soaked with the dew that had gathered on the budded branches, and fell pattering round him. He had
34been standing a long time in that position, for I saw a pair of ousels passing and repassing scarcely three feet from
35him, busy in building their nest, and regarding his proximity no more than that of a piece of timber. They flew off at
36my approach, and he raised his eyes and spoke:--"She's dead!" he said; "I've not waited for you to learn that. Put your
37handkerchief away--don't snivel before me. Damn you all! she wants none of your tears!" I was weeping as much for him as
38her: we do sometimes pity creatures that have none of the feeling either for themselves or others. When I first looked
39into his face, I perceived that he had got intelligence of the catastrophe; and a foolish notion struck me that his
40heart was quelled and he prayed, because his lips moved and his gaze was bent on the ground. "Yes, she's dead!" I
41answered, checking my sobs and drying my cheeks. "Gone to heaven, I hope; where we may, every one, join her, if we take
42due warning and leave our evil ways to follow good!" "Did she take due warning, then?" asked Heathcliff, attempting a
43sneer. "Did she die like a saint? Come, give me a true history of the event. How did--?" He endeavoured to pronounce the
44name, but could not manage it; and compressing his mouth he held a silent combat with his inward agony, defying,
45meanwhile, my sympathy with an unflinching, ferocious stare. "How did she die?" he resumed, at last--fain,
46notwithstanding his hardihood, to have a support behind him; for, after the struggle, he trembled, in spite of himself,
47to his very finger-ends. "Poor wretch!" I thought; "you have a heart and nerves the same as your brother men! Why should
48you be anxious to conceal them? Your pride cannot blind God! You tempt him to wring them, till he forces a cry of
49humiliation." "Quietly as a lamb!" I answered, aloud. "She drew a sigh, and stretched herself, like a child reviving,
50and sinking again to sleep; and five minutes after I felt one little pulse at her heart, and nothing more!" "And--did
51she ever mention me?" he asked, hesitating, as if he dreaded the answer to his question would introduce details that he
52could not bear to hear. "Her senses never returned: she recognised nobody from the time you left her," I said. "She lies
53with a sweet smile on her face; and her latest ideas wandered back to pleasant early days. Her life closed in a gentle
54dream--may she wake as kindly in the other world!" "May she wake in torment!" he cried, with frightful vehemence,
55stamping his foot, and groaning in a sudden paroxysm of ungovernable passion. "Why, she's a liar to the end! Where is
56she? Not there--not in heaven--not perished--where? Oh! you said you cared nothing for my sufferings! And I pray one
57prayer--I repeat it till my tongue stiffens--Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I
58killed you--haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth.
59Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it
60is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!" He dashed his head against the knotted
61trunk; and, lifting up his eyes, howled, not like a man, but like a savage beast being goaded to death with knives and
62spears. I observed several splashes of blood about the bark of the tree, and his hand and forehead were both stained;
63probably the scene I witnessed was a repetition of others acted during the night. It hardly moved my compassion--it
64appalled me: still, I felt reluctant to quit him so. But the moment he recollected himself enough to notice me watching,
65he thundered a command for me to go, and I obeyed. He was beyond my skill to quiet or console!
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