prompt:
Chapter: For two months the fugitives remained absent; in those two months, Mrs.
Linton encountered and conquered the worst shock of what was denominated
a brain fever.  No mother could have nursed an only child more devotedly
than Edgar tended her.  Day and night he was watching, and patiently
enduring all the annoyances that irritable nerves and a shaken reason
could inflict; and, though Kenneth remarked that what he saved from the
grave would only recompense his care by forming the source of constant
future anxiety--in fact, that his health and strength were being
sacrificed to preserve a mere ruin of humanity--he knew no limits in
gratitude and joy when Catherine's life was declared out of danger; and
hour after hour he would sit beside her, tracing the gradual return to
bodily health, and flattering his too sanguine hopes with the illusion
that her mind would settle back to its right balance also, and she would
soon be entirely her former self.

The first time she left her chamber was at the commencement of the
following March.  Mr. Linton had put on her pillow, in the morning, a
handful of golden crocuses; her eye, long stranger to any gleam of
pleasure, caught them in waking, and shone delighted as she gathered them
eagerly together.

'These are the earliest flowers at the Heights,' she exclaimed.  'They
remind me of soft thaw winds, and warm sunshine, and nearly melted snow.
Edgar, is there not a south wind, and is not the snow almost gone?'

'The snow is quite gone down here, darling,' replied her husband; 'and I
only see two white spots on the whole range of moors: the sky is blue,
and the larks are singing, and the becks and brooks are all brim full.
Catherine, last spring at this time, I was longing to have you under this
roof; now, I wish you were a mile or two up those hills: the air blows so
sweetly, I feel that it would cure you.'

'I shall never be there but once more,' said the invalid; 'and then
you'll leave me, and I shall remain for ever.  Next spring you'll long
again to have me under this roof, and you'll look back and think you were
happy to-day.'

Linton lavished on her the kindest caresses, and tried to cheer her by
the fondest words; but, vaguely regarding the flowers, she let the tears
collect on her lashes and stream down her cheeks unheeding.  We knew she
was really better, and, therefore, decided that long confinement to a
single place produced much of this despondency, and it might be partially
removed by a change of scene.  The master told me to light a fire in the
many-weeks' deserted parlour, and to set an easy-chair in the sunshine by
the window; and then he brought her down, and she sat a long while
enjoying the genial heat, and, as we expected, revived by the objects
round her: which, though familiar, were free from the dreary associations
investing her hated sick chamber.  By evening she seemed greatly
exhausted; yet no arguments could persuade her to return to that
apartment, and I had to arrange the parlour sofa for her bed, till
another room could be prepared.  To obviate the fatigue of mounting and
descending the stairs, we fitted up this, where you lie at present--on
the same floor with the parlour; and she was soon strong enough to move
from one to the other, leaning on Edgar's arm.  Ah, I thought myself, she
might recover, so waited on as she was.  And there was double cause to
desire it, for on her existence depended that of another: we cherished
the hope that in a little while Mr. Linton's heart would be gladdened,
and his lands secured from a stranger's grip, by the birth of an heir.

I should mention that Isabella sent to her brother, some six weeks from
her departure, a short note, announcing her marriage with Heathcliff.  It
appeared dry and cold; but at the bottom was dotted in with pencil an
obscure apology, and an entreaty for kind remembrance and reconciliation,
if her proceeding had offended him: asserting that she could not help it
then, and being done, she had now no power to repeal it.  Linton did not
reply to this, I believe; and, in a fortnight more, I got a long letter,
which I considered odd, coming from the pen of a bride just out of the
honeymoon.  I'll read it: for I keep it yet.  Any relic of the dead is
precious, if they were valued living.

* * * * *

DEAR ELLEN, it begins,--I came last night to Wuthering Heights, and
heard, for the first time, that Catherine has been, and is yet, very ill.
I must not write to her, I suppose, and my brother is either too angry or
too distressed to answer what I sent him.  Still, I must write to
somebody, and the only choice left me is you.

Inform Edgar that I'd give the world to see his face again--that my heart
returned to Thrushcross Grange in twenty-four hours after I left it, and
is there at this moment, full of warm feelings for him, and Catherine!  _I
can't follow it though_--(these words are underlined)--they need not
expect me, and they may draw what conclusions they please; taking care,
however, to lay nothing at the door of my weak will or deficient
affection.

The remainder of the letter is for yourself alone.  I want to ask you two
questions: the first is,--How did you contrive to preserve the common
sympathies of human nature when you resided here?  I cannot recognise any
sentiment which those around share with me.

The second question I have great interest in; it is this--Is Mr.
Heathcliff a man?  If so, is he mad?  And if not, is he a devil?  I
sha'n't tell my reasons for making this inquiry; but I beseech you to
explain, if you can, what I have married: that is, when you call to see
me; and you must call, Ellen, very soon.  Don't write, but come, and
bring me something from Edgar.

Now, you shall hear how I have been received in my new home, as I am led
to imagine the Heights will be.  It is to amuse myself that I dwell on
such subjects as the lack of external comforts: they never occupy my
thoughts, except at the moment when I miss them.  I should laugh and
dance for joy, if I found their absence was the total of my miseries, and
the rest was an unnatural dream!

The sun set behind the Grange as we turned on to the moors; by that, I
judged it to be six o'clock; and my companion halted half an hour, to
inspect the park, and the gardens, and, probably, the place itself, as
well as he could; so it was dark when we dismounted in the paved yard of
the farm-house, and your old fellow-servant, Joseph, issued out to
receive us by the light of a dip candle.  He did it with a courtesy that
redounded to his credit.  His first act was to elevate his torch to a
level with my face, squint malignantly, project his under-lip, and turn
away.  Then he took the two horses, and led them into the stables;
reappearing for the purpose of locking the outer gate, as if we lived in
an ancient castle.

Heathcliff stayed to speak to him, and I entered the kitchen--a dingy,
untidy hole; I daresay you would not know it, it is so changed since it
was in your charge.  By the fire stood a ruffianly child, strong in limb
and dirty in garb, with a look of Catherine in his eyes and about his
mouth.

'This is Edgar's legal nephew,' I reflected--'mine in a manner; I must
shake hands, and--yes--I must kiss him.  It is right to establish a good
understanding at the beginning.'

I approached, and, attempting to take his chubby fist, said--'How do you
do, my dear?'

He replied in a jargon I did not comprehend.

'Shall you and I be friends, Hareton?' was my next essay at conversation.

An oath, and a threat to set Throttler on me if I did not 'frame off'
rewarded my perseverance.

'Hey, Throttler, lad!' whispered the little wretch, rousing a half-bred
bull-dog from its lair in a corner.  'Now, wilt thou be ganging?' he
asked authoritatively.

Love for my life urged a compliance; I stepped over the threshold to wait
till the others should enter.  Mr. Heathcliff was nowhere visible; and
Joseph, whom I followed to the stables, and requested to accompany me in,
after staring and muttering to himself, screwed up his nose and
replied--'Mim! mim! mim!  Did iver Christian body hear aught like it?
Mincing un' munching!  How can I tell whet ye say?'

'I say, I wish you to come with me into the house!' I cried, thinking him
deaf, yet highly disgusted at his rudeness.

'None o' me!  I getten summut else to do,' he answered, and continued his
work; moving his lantern jaws meanwhile, and surveying my dress and
countenance (the former a great deal too fine, but the latter, I'm sure,
as sad as he could desire) with sovereign contempt.

I walked round the yard, and through a wicket, to another door, at which
I took the liberty of knocking, in hopes some more civil servant might
show himself.  After a short suspense, it was opened by a tall, gaunt
man, without neckerchief, and otherwise extremely slovenly; his features
were lost in masses of shaggy hair that hung on his shoulders; and _his_
eyes, too, were like a ghostly Catherine's with all their beauty
annihilated.

'What's your business here?' he demanded, grimly.  'Who are you?'

'My name was Isabella Linton,' I replied.  'You've seen me before, sir.
I'm lately married to Mr. Heathcliff, and he has brought me here--I
suppose, by your permission.'

'Is he come back, then?' asked the hermit, glaring like a hungry wolf.

'Yes--we came just now,' I said; 'but he left me by the kitchen door; and
when I would have gone in, your little boy played sentinel over the
place, and frightened me off by the help of a bull-dog.'

'It's well the hellish villain has kept his word!' growled my future
host, searching the darkness beyond me in expectation of discovering
Heathcliff; and then he indulged in a soliloquy of execrations, and
threats of what he would have done had the 'fiend' deceived him.

I repented having tried this second entrance, and was almost inclined to
slip away before he finished cursing, but ere I could execute that
intention, he ordered me in, and shut and re-fastened the door.  There
was a great fire, and that was all the light in the huge apartment, whose
floor had grown a uniform grey; and the once brilliant pewter-dishes,
which used to attract my gaze when I was a girl, partook of a similar
obscurity, created by tarnish and dust.  I inquired whether I might call
the maid, and be conducted to a bedroom!  Mr. Earnshaw vouchsafed no
answer.  He walked up and down, with his hands in his pockets, apparently
quite forgetting my presence; and his abstraction was evidently so deep,
and his whole aspect so misanthropical, that I shrank from disturbing him
again.

You'll not be surprised, Ellen, at my feeling particularly cheerless,
seated in worse than solitude on that inhospitable hearth, and
remembering that four miles distant lay my delightful home, containing
the only people I loved on earth; and there might as well be the
Atlantic to part us, instead of those four miles: I could not overpass
them! I questioned with myself--where must I turn for comfort? and--mind
you don't tell Edgar, or Catherine--above every sorrow beside, this rose
pre-eminent: despair at finding nobody who could or would be my ally
against Heathcliff! I had sought shelter at Wuthering Heights, almost
gladly, because I was secured by that arrangement from living alone with
him; but he knew the people we were coming amongst, and he did not fear
their intermeddling.

I sat and thought a doleful time: the clock struck eight, and nine, and
still my companion paced to and fro, his head bent on his breast, and
perfectly silent, unless a groan or a bitter ejaculation forced itself
out at intervals.  I listened to detect a woman's voice in the house, and
filled the interim with wild regrets and dismal anticipations, which, at
last, spoke audibly in irrepressible sighing and weeping.  I was not
aware how openly I grieved, till Earnshaw halted opposite, in his
measured walk, and gave me a stare of newly-awakened surprise.  Taking
advantage of his recovered attention, I exclaimed--'I'm tired with my
journey, and I want to go to bed!  Where is the maid-servant?  Direct me
to her, as she won't come to me!'

'We have none,' he answered; 'you must wait on yourself!'

'Where must I sleep, then?' I sobbed; I was beyond regarding
self-respect, weighed down by fatigue and wretchedness.

'Joseph will show you Heathcliff's chamber,' said he; 'open that
door--he's in there.'

I was going to obey, but he suddenly arrested me, and added in the
strangest tone--'Be so good as to turn your lock, and draw your
bolt--don't omit it!'

'Well!' I said.  'But why, Mr. Earnshaw?'  I did not relish the notion of
deliberately fastening myself in with Heathcliff.

'Look here!' he replied, pulling from his waistcoat a
curiously-constructed pistol, having a double-edged spring knife attached
to the barrel.  'That's a great tempter to a desperate man, is it not?  I
cannot resist going up with this every night, and trying his door.  If
once I find it open he's done for; I do it invariably, even though the
minute before I have been recalling a hundred reasons that should make me
refrain: it is some devil that urges me to thwart my own schemes by
killing him.  You fight against that devil for love as long as you may;
when the time comes, not all the angels in heaven shall save him!'

I surveyed the weapon inquisitively.  A hideous notion struck me: how
powerful I should be possessing such an instrument!  I took it from his
hand, and touched the blade.  He looked astonished at the expression my
face assumed during a brief second: it was not horror, it was
covetousness.  He snatched the pistol back, jealously; shut the knife,
and returned it to its concealment.

'I don't care if you tell him,' said he.  'Put him on his guard, and
watch for him.  You know the terms we are on, I see: his danger does not
shock you.'

'What has Heathcliff done to you?' I asked.  'In what has he wronged you,
to warrant this appalling hatred?  Wouldn't it be wiser to bid him quit
the house?'

'No!' thundered Earnshaw; 'should he offer to leave me, he's a dead man:
persuade him to attempt it, and you are a murderess!  Am I to lose _all_,
without a chance of retrieval?  Is Hareton to be a beggar?  Oh,
damnation!  I _will_ have it back; and I'll have _his_ gold too; and then
his blood; and hell shall have his soul!  It will be ten times blacker
with that guest than ever it was before!'

You've acquainted me, Ellen, with your old master's habits.  He is
clearly on the verge of madness: he was so last night at least.  I
shuddered to be near him, and thought on the servant's ill-bred
moroseness as comparatively agreeable.  He now recommenced his moody
walk, and I raised the latch, and escaped into the kitchen.  Joseph was
bending over the fire, peering into a large pan that swung above it; and
a wooden bowl of oatmeal stood on the settle close by.  The contents of
the pan began to boil, and he turned to plunge his hand into the bowl; I
conjectured that this preparation was probably for our supper, and, being
hungry, I resolved it should be eatable; so, crying out sharply, '_I'll_
make the porridge!'  I removed the vessel out of his reach, and proceeded
to take off my hat and riding-habit.  'Mr. Earnshaw,' I continued,
'directs me to wait on myself: I will.  I'm not going to act the lady
among you, for fear I should starve.'

'Gooid Lord!' he muttered, sitting down, and stroking his ribbed
stockings from the knee to the ankle.  'If there's to be fresh
ortherings--just when I getten used to two maisters, if I mun hev' a
_mistress_ set o'er my heead, it's like time to be flitting.  I niver
_did_ think to see t' day that I mud lave th' owld place--but I doubt
it's nigh at hand!'

This lamentation drew no notice from me: I went briskly to work, sighing
to remember a period when it would have been all merry fun; but compelled
speedily to drive off the remembrance.  It racked me to recall past
happiness and the greater peril there was of conjuring up its apparition,
the quicker the thible ran round, and the faster the handfuls of meal
fell into the water.  Joseph beheld my style of cookery with growing
indignation.

'Thear!' he ejaculated.  'Hareton, thou willn't sup thy porridge
to-neeght; they'll be naught but lumps as big as my neive.  Thear, agean!
I'd fling in bowl un' all, if I wer ye!  There, pale t' guilp off, un'
then ye'll hae done wi' 't.  Bang, bang.  It's a mercy t' bothom isn't
deaved out!'

It _was_ rather a rough mess, I own, when poured into the basins; four
had been provided, and a gallon pitcher of new milk was brought from the
dairy, which Hareton seized and commenced drinking and spilling from the
expansive lip.  I expostulated, and desired that he should have his in a
mug; affirming that I could not taste the liquid treated so dirtily.  The
old cynic chose to be vastly offended at this nicety; assuring me,
repeatedly, that 'the barn was every bit as good' as I, 'and every bit as
wollsome,' and wondering how I could fashion to be so conceited.
Meanwhile, the infant ruffian continued sucking; and glowered up at me
defyingly, as he slavered into the jug.

'I shall have my supper in another room,' I said.  'Have you no place you
call a parlour?'

'_Parlour_!' he echoed, sneeringly, '_parlour_!  Nay, we've noa
_parlours_.  If yah dunnut loike wer company, there's maister's; un' if
yah dunnut loike maister, there's us.'

'Then I shall go up-stairs,' I answered; 'show me a chamber.'

I put my basin on a tray, and went myself to fetch some more milk.  With
great grumblings, the fellow rose, and preceded me in my ascent: we
mounted to the garrets; he opened a door, now and then, to look into the
apartments we passed.

'Here's a rahm,' he said, at last, flinging back a cranky board on
hinges.  'It's weel eneugh to ate a few porridge in.  There's a pack o'
corn i' t' corner, thear, meeterly clane; if ye're feared o' muckying yer
grand silk cloes, spread yer hankerchir o' t' top on't.'

The 'rahm' was a kind of lumber-hole smelling strong of malt and grain;
various sacks of which articles were piled around, leaving a wide, bare
space in the middle.

'Why, man,' I exclaimed, facing him angrily, 'this is not a place to
sleep in.  I wish to see my bed-room.'

'_Bed-rume_!' he repeated, in a tone of mockery. 'Yah's see all t'
_bed-rumes_ thear is--yon's mine.'

He pointed into the second garret, only differing from the first in being
more naked about the walls, and having a large, low, curtainless bed,
with an indigo-coloured quilt, at one end.

'What do I want with yours?' I retorted.  'I suppose Mr. Heathcliff does
not lodge at the top of the house, does he?'

'Oh! it's Maister _Hathecliff's_ ye're wanting?' cried he, as if making a
new discovery.  'Couldn't ye ha' said soa, at onst? un' then, I mud ha'
telled ye, baht all this wark, that that's just one ye cannut see--he
allas keeps it locked, un' nob'dy iver mells on't but hisseln.'

'You've a nice house, Joseph,' I could not refrain from observing, 'and
pleasant inmates; and I think the concentrated essence of all the madness
in the world took up its abode in my brain the day I linked my fate with
theirs!  However, that is not to the present purpose--there are other
rooms.  For heaven's sake be quick, and let me settle somewhere!'

He made no reply to this adjuration; only plodding doggedly down the
wooden steps, and halting, before an apartment which, from that halt and
the superior quality of its furniture, I conjectured to be the best one.
There was a carpet--a good one, but the pattern was obliterated by dust;
a fireplace hung with cut-paper, dropping to pieces; a handsome
oak-bedstead with ample crimson curtains of rather expensive material and
modern make; but they had evidently experienced rough usage: the
vallances hung in festoons, wrenched from their rings, and the iron rod
supporting them was bent in an arc on one side, causing the drapery to
trail upon the floor.  The chairs were also damaged, many of them
severely; and deep indentations deformed the panels of the walls.  I was
endeavouring to gather resolution for entering and taking possession,
when my fool of a guide announced,--'This here is t' maister's.'  My
supper by this time was cold, my appetite gone, and my patience
exhausted.  I insisted on being provided instantly with a place of
refuge, and means of repose.

'Whear the divil?' began the religious elder.  'The Lord bless us!  The
Lord forgie us!  Whear the _hell_ wold ye gang? ye marred, wearisome
nowt!  Ye've seen all but Hareton's bit of a cham'er.  There's not
another hoile to lig down in i' th' hahse!'

I was so vexed, I flung my tray and its contents on the ground; and then
seated myself at the stairs'-head, hid my face in my hands, and cried.

'Ech! ech!' exclaimed Joseph.  'Weel done, Miss Cathy! weel done, Miss
Cathy!  Howsiver, t' maister sall just tum'le o'er them brooken pots; un'
then we's hear summut; we's hear how it's to be.  Gooid-for-naught
madling! ye desarve pining fro' this to Chrustmas, flinging t' precious
gifts o'God under fooit i' yer flaysome rages!  But I'm mista'en if ye
shew yer sperrit lang.  Will Hathecliff bide sich bonny ways, think ye? I
nobbut wish he may catch ye i' that plisky.  I nobbut wish he may.'

And so he went on scolding to his den beneath, taking the candle with
him; and I remained in the dark. The period of reflection succeeding
this silly action compelled me to admit the necessity of smothering my
pride and choking my wrath, and bestirring myself to remove its effects.
An unexpected aid presently appeared in the shape of Throttler, whom I
now recognised as a son of our old Skulker: it had spent its whelphood
at the Grange, and was given by my father to Mr. Hindley. I fancy it
knew me: it pushed its nose against mine by way of salute, and then
hastened to devour the porridge; while I groped from step to step,
collecting the shattered earthenware, and drying the spatters of milk
from the banister with my pocket-handkerchief. Our labours were scarcely
over when I heard Earnshaw's tread in the passage; my assistant tucked
in his tail, and pressed to the wall; I stole into the nearest doorway.
The dog's endeavour to avoid him was unsuccessful; as I guessed by a
scutter down-stairs, and a prolonged, piteous yelping. I had better
luck: he passed on, entered his chamber, and shut the door. Directly
after Joseph came up with Hareton, to put him to bed. I had found
shelter in Hareton's room, and the old man, on seeing me, said,--'They's
rahm for boath ye un' yer pride, now, I sud think i' the hahse. It's
empty; ye may hev' it all to yerseln, un' Him as allus maks a third, i'
sich ill company!'

Gladly did I take advantage of this intimation; and the minute I flung
myself into a chair, by the fire, I nodded, and slept.  My slumber was
deep and sweet, though over far too soon.  Mr. Heathcliff awoke me; he
had just come in, and demanded, in his loving manner, what I was doing
there?  I told him the cause of my staying up so late--that he had the
key of our room in his pocket.  The adjective _our_ gave mortal offence.
He swore it was not, nor ever should be, mine; and he'd--but I'll not
repeat his language, nor describe his habitual conduct: he is ingenious
and unresting in seeking to gain my abhorrence!  I sometimes wonder at
him with an intensity that deadens my fear: yet, I assure you, a tiger or
a venomous serpent could not rouse terror in me equal to that which he
wakens.  He told me of Catherine's illness, and accused my brother of
causing it promising that I should be Edgar's proxy in suffering, till he
could get hold of him.

I do hate him--I am wretched--I have been a fool!  Beware of uttering one
breath of this to any one at the Grange.  I shall expect you every
day--don't disappoint me!--ISABELLA.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Heathcliff and Isabella are gone for two weeks. In the meantime, Cathy's health improves under the devoted care of her husband; still the doctor knows that her condition is very fragile. Her recovery is now more important than ever because she is expecting a baby. Although Cathy shows no emotions over her pregnancy, Edgar is delighted. He is hoping for a son, who will inherit his property and keep Thrushcross Grange out of Heathcliff's hands. Six weeks later, Isabella sends a short note announcing her marriage to Heathcliff. She also requests her brother to forgive her, but Edgar does not answer. Later, Nelly receives a long letter from Isabella telling of her misery and despair. She thinks Heathcliff is mad. She informs Nelly that they are now staying at Wuthering Heights and that she is not permitted to visit the Grange. All the residents of the Heights, Hareton, Joseph and Hindley, are nasty and uncouth. Isabella confesses that she hates Heathcliff, who mistreats her. She begs Nelly to visit her. It is also revealed that Hindley has become a desperate man. He is maddened by the thought of losing all to Heathcliff "without a chance of retrieval" and of leaving Hareton a beggar. He is determined to kill enemy if the opportunity presents itself. Hindley's wretchedness further darkens an already gloomy chapter.


prompt:
Chapter: As soon as I had perused this epistle I went to the master, and informed
him that his sister had arrived at the Heights, and sent me a letter
expressing her sorrow for Mrs. Linton's situation, and her ardent desire
to see him; with a wish that he would transmit to her, as early as
possible, some token of forgiveness by me.

'Forgiveness!' said Linton.  'I have nothing to forgive her, Ellen.  You
may call at Wuthering Heights this afternoon, if you like, and say that I
am not angry, but I'm sorry to have lost her; especially as I can never
think she'll be happy.  It is out of the question my going to see her,
however: we are eternally divided; and should she really wish to oblige
me, let her persuade the villain she has married to leave the country.'

'And you won't write her a little note, sir?' I asked, imploringly.

'No,' he answered.  'It is needless.  My communication with Heathcliff's
family shall be as sparing as his with mine.  It shall not exist!'

Mr. Edgar's coldness depressed me exceedingly; and all the way from the
Grange I puzzled my brains how to put more heart into what he said, when
I repeated it; and how to soften his refusal of even a few lines to
console Isabella. I daresay she had been on the watch for me since
morning: I saw her looking through the lattice as I came up the garden
causeway, and I nodded to her; but she drew back, as if afraid of being
observed. I entered without knocking. There never was such a dreary,
dismal scene as the formerly cheerful house presented! I must confess,
that if I had been in the young lady's place, I would, at least, have
swept the hearth, and wiped the tables with a duster. But she already
partook of the pervading spirit of neglect which encompassed her. Her
pretty face was wan and listless; her hair uncurled: some locks hanging
lankly down, and some carelessly twisted round her head. Probably she
had not touched her dress since yester evening. Hindley was not there.
Mr. Heathcliff sat at a table, turning over some papers in his
pocket-book; but he rose when I appeared, asked me how I did, quite
friendly, and offered me a chair. He was the only thing there that
seemed decent; and I thought he never looked better. So much had
circumstances altered their positions, that he would certainly have
struck a stranger as a born and bred gentleman; and his wife as a
thorough little slattern! She came forward eagerly to greet me, and held
out one hand to take the expected letter. I shook my head. She wouldn't
understand the hint, but followed me to a sideboard, where I went to lay
my bonnet, and importuned me in a whisper to give her directly what I
had brought. Heathcliff guessed the meaning of her manoeuvres, and
said--'If you have got anything for Isabella (as no doubt you have,
Nelly), give it to her. You needn't make a secret of it: we have no
secrets between us.'

'Oh, I have nothing,' I replied, thinking it best to speak the truth at
once.  'My master bid me tell his sister that she must not expect either
a letter or a visit from him at present.  He sends his love, ma'am, and
his wishes for your happiness, and his pardon for the grief you have
occasioned; but he thinks that after this time his household and the
household here should drop intercommunication, as nothing could come of
keeping it up.'

Mrs. Heathcliff's lip quivered slightly, and she returned to her seat in
the window.  Her husband took his stand on the hearthstone, near me, and
began to put questions concerning Catherine.  I told him as much as I
thought proper of her illness, and he extorted from me, by
cross-examination, most of the facts connected with its origin.  I blamed
her, as she deserved, for bringing it all on herself; and ended by hoping
that he would follow Mr. Linton's example and avoid future interference
with his family, for good or evil.

'Mrs. Linton is now just recovering,' I said; 'she'll never be like she
was, but her life is spared; and if you really have a regard for her,
you'll shun crossing her way again: nay, you'll move out of this country
entirely; and that you may not regret it, I'll inform you Catherine
Linton is as different now from your old friend Catherine Earnshaw, as
that young lady is different from me.  Her appearance is changed greatly,
her character much more so; and the person who is compelled, of
necessity, to be her companion, will only sustain his affection hereafter
by the remembrance of what she once was, by common humanity, and a sense
of duty!'

'That is quite possible,' remarked Heathcliff, forcing himself to seem
calm: 'quite possible that your master should have nothing but common
humanity and a sense of duty to fall back upon.  But do you imagine that
I shall leave Catherine to his _duty_ and _humanity_? and can you compare
my feelings respecting Catherine to his?  Before you leave this house, I
must exact a promise from you that you'll get me an interview with her:
consent, or refuse, I _will_ see her!  What do you say?'

'I say, Mr. Heathcliff,' I replied, 'you must not: you never shall,
through my means.  Another encounter between you and the master would
kill her altogether.'

'With your aid that may be avoided,' he continued; 'and should there be
danger of such an event--should he be the cause of adding a single
trouble more to her existence--why, I think I shall be justified in going
to extremes!  I wish you had sincerity enough to tell me whether
Catherine would suffer greatly from his loss: the fear that she would
restrains me.  And there you see the distinction between our feelings:
had he been in my place, and I in his, though I hated him with a hatred
that turned my life to gall, I never would have raised a hand against
him.  You may look incredulous, if you please!  I never would have
banished him from her society as long as she desired his.  The moment her
regard ceased, I would have torn his heart out, and drunk his blood!  But,
till then--if you don't believe me, you don't know me--till then, I would
have died by inches before I touched a single hair of his head!'

'And yet,' I interrupted, 'you have no scruples in completely ruining all
hopes of her perfect restoration, by thrusting yourself into her
remembrance now, when she has nearly forgotten you, and involving her in
a new tumult of discord and distress.'

'You suppose she has nearly forgotten me?' he said.  'Oh, Nelly! you know
she has not!  You know as well as I do, that for every thought she spends
on Linton she spends a thousand on me!  At a most miserable period of my
life, I had a notion of the kind: it haunted me on my return to the
neighbourhood last summer; but only her own assurance could make me admit
the horrible idea again.  And then, Linton would be nothing, nor Hindley,
nor all the dreams that ever I dreamt.  Two words would comprehend my
future--_death_ and _hell_: existence, after losing her, would be hell.
Yet I was a fool to fancy for a moment that she valued Edgar Linton's
attachment more than mine.  If he loved with all the powers of his puny
being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years as I could in a day.  And
Catherine has a heart as deep as I have: the sea could be as readily
contained in that horse-trough as her whole affection be monopolised by
him.  Tush!  He is scarcely a degree dearer to her than her dog, or her
horse.  It is not in him to be loved like me: how can she love in him
what he has not?'

'Catherine and Edgar are as fond of each other as any two people can be,'
cried Isabella, with sudden vivacity.  'No one has a right to talk in
that manner, and I won't hear my brother depreciated in silence!'

'Your brother is wondrous fond of you too, isn't he?' observed
Heathcliff, scornfully.  'He turns you adrift on the world with
surprising alacrity.'

'He is not aware of what I suffer,' she replied.  'I didn't tell him
that.'

'You have been telling him something, then: you have written, have you?'

'To say that I was married, I did write--you saw the note.'

'And nothing since?'

'No.'

'My young lady is looking sadly the worse for her change of condition,' I
remarked.  'Somebody's love comes short in her case, obviously; whose, I
may guess; but, perhaps, I shouldn't say.'

'I should guess it was her own,' said Heathcliff.  'She degenerates into
a mere slut!  She is tired of trying to please me uncommonly early.  You'd
hardly credit it, but the very morrow of our wedding she was weeping to
go home.  However, she'll suit this house so much the better for not
being over nice, and I'll take care she does not disgrace me by rambling
abroad.'

'Well, sir,' returned I, 'I hope you'll consider that Mrs. Heathcliff is
accustomed to be looked after and waited on; and that she has been
brought up like an only daughter, whom every one was ready to serve.  You
must let her have a maid to keep things tidy about her, and you must
treat her kindly.  Whatever be your notion of Mr. Edgar, you cannot doubt
that she has a capacity for strong attachments, or she wouldn't have
abandoned the elegancies, and comforts, and friends of her former home,
to fix contentedly, in such a wilderness as this, with you.'

'She abandoned them under a delusion,' he answered; 'picturing in me a
hero of romance, and expecting unlimited indulgences from my chivalrous
devotion.  I can hardly regard her in the light of a rational creature,
so obstinately has she persisted in forming a fabulous notion of my
character and acting on the false impressions she cherished.  But, at
last, I think she begins to know me: I don't perceive the silly smiles
and grimaces that provoked me at first; and the senseless incapability of
discerning that I was in earnest when I gave her my opinion of her
infatuation and herself.  It was a marvellous effort of perspicacity to
discover that I did not love her.  I believed, at one time, no lessons
could teach her that!  And yet it is poorly learnt; for this morning she
announced, as a piece of appalling intelligence, that I had actually
succeeded in making her hate me!  A positive labour of Hercules, I assure
you!  If it be achieved, I have cause to return thanks.  Can I trust your
assertion, Isabella?  Are you sure you hate me?  If I let you alone for
half a day, won't you come sighing and wheedling to me again?  I daresay
she would rather I had seemed all tenderness before you: it wounds her
vanity to have the truth exposed.  But I don't care who knows that the
passion was wholly on one side: and I never told her a lie about it.  She
cannot accuse me of showing one bit of deceitful softness.  The first
thing she saw me do, on coming out of the Grange, was to hang up her
little dog; and when she pleaded for it, the first words I uttered were a
wish that I had the hanging of every being belonging to her, except one:
possibly she took that exception for herself.  But no brutality disgusted
her: I suppose she has an innate admiration of it, if only her precious
person were secure from injury!  Now, was it not the depth of
absurdity--of genuine idiotcy, for that pitiful, slavish, mean-minded
brach to dream that I could love her?  Tell your master, Nelly, that I
never, in all my life, met with such an abject thing as she is.  She even
disgraces the name of Linton; and I've sometimes relented, from pure lack
of invention, in my experiments on what she could endure, and still creep
shamefully cringing back!  But tell him, also, to set his fraternal and
magisterial heart at ease: that I keep strictly within the limits of the
law.  I have avoided, up to this period, giving her the slightest right
to claim a separation; and, what's more, she'd thank nobody for dividing
us.  If she desired to go, she might: the nuisance of her presence
outweighs the gratification to be derived from tormenting her!'

'Mr. Heathcliff,' said I, 'this is the talk of a madman; your wife, most
likely, is convinced you are mad; and, for that reason, she has borne
with you hitherto: but now that you say she may go, she'll doubtless
avail herself of the permission.  You are not so bewitched, ma'am, are
you, as to remain with him of your own accord?'

'Take care, Ellen!' answered Isabella, her eyes sparkling irefully; there
was no misdoubting by their expression the full success of her partner's
endeavours to make himself detested.  'Don't put faith in a single word
he speaks.  He's a lying fiend! a monster, and not a human being!  I've
been told I might leave him before; and I've made the attempt, but I dare
not repeat it!  Only, Ellen, promise you'll not mention a syllable of his
infamous conversation to my brother or Catherine.  Whatever he may
pretend, he wishes to provoke Edgar to desperation: he says he has
married me on purpose to obtain power over him; and he sha'n't obtain
it--I'll die first!  I just hope, I pray, that he may forget his
diabolical prudence and kill me!  The single pleasure I can imagine is to
die, or to see him dead!'

'There--that will do for the present!' said Heathcliff.  'If you are
called upon in a court of law, you'll remember her language, Nelly!  And
take a good look at that countenance: she's near the point which would
suit me.  No; you're not fit to be your own guardian, Isabella, now; and
I, being your legal protector, must retain you in my custody, however
distasteful the obligation may be.  Go up-stairs; I have something to say
to Ellen Dean in private.  That's not the way: up-stairs, I tell you!
Why, this is the road upstairs, child!'

He seized, and thrust her from the room; and returned muttering--'I have
no pity!  I have no pity!  The more the worms writhe, the more I yearn to
crush out their entrails!  It is a moral teething; and I grind with
greater energy in proportion to the increase of pain.'

'Do you understand what the word pity means?' I said, hastening to resume
my bonnet.  'Did you ever feel a touch of it in your life?'

'Put that down!' he interrupted, perceiving my intention to depart.  'You
are not going yet.  Come here now, Nelly: I must either persuade or
compel you to aid me in fulfilling my determination to see Catherine, and
that without delay.  I swear that I meditate no harm: I don't desire to
cause any disturbance, or to exasperate or insult Mr. Linton; I only wish
to hear from herself how she is, and why she has been ill; and to ask if
anything that I could do would be of use to her.  Last night I was in the
Grange garden six hours, and I'll return there to-night; and every night
I'll haunt the place, and every day, till I find an opportunity of
entering.  If Edgar Linton meets me, I shall not hesitate to knock him
down, and give him enough to insure his quiescence while I stay.  If his
servants oppose me, I shall threaten them off with these pistols.  But
wouldn't it be better to prevent my coming in contact with them, or their
master?  And you could do it so easily.  I'd warn you when I came, and
then you might let me in unobserved, as soon as she was alone, and watch
till I departed, your conscience quite calm: you would be hindering
mischief.'

I protested against playing that treacherous part in my employer's house:
and, besides, I urged the cruelty and selfishness of his destroying Mrs.
Linton's tranquillity for his satisfaction.  'The commonest occurrence
startles her painfully,' I said.  'She's all nerves, and she couldn't
bear the surprise, I'm positive.  Don't persist, sir! or else I shall be
obliged to inform my master of your designs; and he'll take measures to
secure his house and its inmates from any such unwarrantable intrusions!'

'In that case I'll take measures to secure you, woman!' exclaimed
Heathcliff; 'you shall not leave Wuthering Heights till to-morrow
morning.  It is a foolish story to assert that Catherine could not bear
to see me; and as to surprising her, I don't desire it: you must prepare
her--ask her if I may come.  You say she never mentions my name, and that
I am never mentioned to her.  To whom should she mention me if I am a
forbidden topic in the house?  She thinks you are all spies for her
husband.  Oh, I've no doubt she's in hell among you!  I guess by her
silence, as much as anything, what she feels.  You say she is often
restless, and anxious-looking: is that a proof of tranquillity?  You talk
of her mind being unsettled.  How the devil could it be otherwise in her
frightful isolation?  And that insipid, paltry creature attending her
from _duty_ and _humanity_!  From _pity_ and _charity_!  He might as well
plant an oak in a flower-pot, and expect it to thrive, as imagine he can
restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow cares?  Let us settle it
at once: will you stay here, and am I to fight my way to Catherine over
Linton and his footman?  Or will you be my friend, as you have been
hitherto, and do what I request?  Decide! because there is no reason for
my lingering another minute, if you persist in your stubborn ill-nature!'

Well, Mr. Lockwood, I argued and complained, and flatly refused him fifty
times; but in the long run he forced me to an agreement.  I engaged to
carry a letter from him to my mistress; and should she consent, I
promised to let him have intelligence of Linton's next absence from home,
when he might come, and get in as he was able: I wouldn't be there, and
my fellow-servants should be equally out of the way.  Was it right or
wrong?  I fear it was wrong, though expedient.  I thought I prevented
another explosion by my compliance; and I thought, too, it might create a
favourable crisis in Catherine's mental illness: and then I remembered
Mr. Edgar's stern rebuke of my carrying tales; and I tried to smooth away
all disquietude on the subject, by affirming, with frequent iteration,
that that betrayal of trust, if it merited so harsh an appellation,
should be the last.  Notwithstanding, my journey homeward was sadder than
my journey thither; and many misgivings I had, ere I could prevail on
myself to put the missive into Mrs. Linton's hand.

But here is Kenneth; I'll go down, and tell him how much better you are.
My history is _dree_, as we say, and will serve to while away another
morning.

Dree, and dreary!  I reflected as the good woman descended to receive the
doctor: and not exactly of the kind which I should have chosen to amuse
me.  But never mind!  I'll extract wholesome medicines from Mrs. Dean's
bitter herbs; and firstly, let me beware of the fascination that lurks in
Catherine Heathcliff's brilliant eyes.  I should be in a curious taking
if I surrendered my heart to that young person, and the daughter turned
out a second edition of the mother.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Nelly informs her master of Isabella's letter, and Edgar grants permission for her to visit the Heights. When Nelly calls on Isabella, she finds her pale and listless. Isabella is extremely disappointed that Nelly brings no word from her brother. During Nelly's visit, Heathcliff insults and humiliates Isabella, bragging about his cruelty. He even admits that it was he who hanged her pet dog before their elopement. Heathcliff demands that Nelly arrange a meeting between Catherine and himself. Nelly tells him that such an encounter would surely kill her mistress. Heathcliff threatens Nelly, saying he will detain her at Wuthering Heights and go to the Grange himself. Fearing the consequences of such a drastic action, Nelly yields and agrees to carry Heathcliff's letter to Catherine and to arrange a meeting between them if her mistress consents. At this point, Nelly's story is interrupted by the arrival of the doctor.


prompt:
Chapter: Another week over--and I am so many days nearer health, and spring!  I
have now heard all my neighbour's history, at different sittings, as the
housekeeper could spare time from more important occupations.  I'll
continue it in her own words, only a little condensed.  She is, on the
whole, a very fair narrator, and I don't think I could improve her style.

In the evening, she said, the evening of my visit to the Heights, I knew,
as well as if I saw him, that Mr. Heathcliff was about the place; and I
shunned going out, because I still carried his letter in my pocket, and
didn't want to be threatened or teased any more.  I had made up my mind
not to give it till my master went somewhere, as I could not guess how
its receipt would affect Catherine.  The consequence was, that it did not
reach her before the lapse of three days.  The fourth was Sunday, and I
brought it into her room after the family were gone to church.  There was
a manservant left to keep the house with me, and we generally made a
practice of locking the doors during the hours of service; but on that
occasion the weather was so warm and pleasant that I set them wide open,
and, to fulfil my engagement, as I knew who would be coming, I told my
companion that the mistress wished very much for some oranges, and he
must run over to the village and get a few, to be paid for on the morrow.
He departed, and I went up-stairs.

Mrs. Linton sat in a loose white dress, with a light shawl over her
shoulders, in the recess of the open window, as usual.  Her thick, long
hair had been partly removed at the beginning of her illness, and now she
wore it simply combed in its natural tresses over her temples and neck.
Her appearance was altered, as I had told Heathcliff; but when she was
calm, there seemed unearthly beauty in the change.  The flash of her eyes
had been succeeded by a dreamy and melancholy softness; they no longer
gave the impression of looking at the objects around her: they appeared
always to gaze beyond, and far beyond--you would have said out of this
world.  Then, the paleness of her face--its haggard aspect having
vanished as she recovered flesh--and the peculiar expression arising from
her mental state, though painfully suggestive of their causes, added to
the touching interest which she awakened; and--invariably to me, I know,
and to any person who saw her, I should think--refuted more tangible
proofs of convalescence, and stamped her as one doomed to decay.

A book lay spread on the sill before her, and the scarcely perceptible
wind fluttered its leaves at intervals.  I believe Linton had laid it
there: for she never endeavoured to divert herself with reading, or
occupation of any kind, and he would spend many an hour in trying to
entice her attention to some subject which had formerly been her
amusement.  She was conscious of his aim, and in her better moods endured
his efforts placidly, only showing their uselessness by now and then
suppressing a wearied sigh, and checking him at last with the saddest of
smiles and kisses.  At other times, she would turn petulantly away, and
hide her face in her hands, or even push him off angrily; and then he
took care to let her alone, for he was certain of doing no good.

Gimmerton chapel bells were still ringing; and the full, mellow flow of
the beck in the valley came soothingly on the ear.  It was a sweet
substitute for the yet absent murmur of the summer foliage, which drowned
that music about the Grange when the trees were in leaf.  At Wuthering
Heights it always sounded on quiet days following a great thaw or a
season of steady rain.  And of Wuthering Heights Catherine was thinking
as she listened: that is, if she thought or listened at all; but she had
the vague, distant look I mentioned before, which expressed no
recognition of material things either by ear or eye.

'There's a letter for you, Mrs. Linton,' I said, gently inserting it in
one hand that rested on her knee.  'You must read it immediately, because
it wants an answer.  Shall I break the seal?'  'Yes,' she answered,
without altering the direction of her eyes.  I opened it--it was very
short.  'Now,' I continued, 'read it.'  She drew away her hand, and let
it fall.  I replaced it in her lap, and stood waiting till it should
please her to glance down; but that movement was so long delayed that at
last I resumed--'Must I read it, ma'am?  It is from Mr. Heathcliff.'

There was a start and a troubled gleam of recollection, and a struggle to
arrange her ideas.  She lifted the letter, and seemed to peruse it; and
when she came to the signature she sighed: yet still I found she had not
gathered its import, for, upon my desiring to hear her reply, she merely
pointed to the name, and gazed at me with mournful and questioning
eagerness.

'Well, he wishes to see you,' said I, guessing her need of an
interpreter.  'He's in the garden by this time, and impatient to know
what answer I shall bring.'

As I spoke, I observed a large dog lying on the sunny grass beneath raise
its ears as if about to bark, and then smoothing them back, announce, by
a wag of the tail, that some one approached whom it did not consider a
stranger.  Mrs. Linton bent forward, and listened breathlessly.  The
minute after a step traversed the hall; the open house was too tempting
for Heathcliff to resist walking in: most likely he supposed that I was
inclined to shirk my promise, and so resolved to trust to his own
audacity.  With straining eagerness Catherine gazed towards the entrance
of her chamber.  He did not hit the right room directly: she motioned me
to admit him, but he found it out ere I could reach the door, and in a
stride or two was at her side, and had her grasped in his arms.

He neither spoke nor loosed his hold for some five minutes, during which
period he bestowed more kisses than ever he gave in his life before, I
daresay: but then my mistress had kissed him first, and I plainly saw
that he could hardly bear, for downright agony, to look into her face!
The same conviction had stricken him as me, from the instant he beheld
her, that there was no prospect of ultimate recovery there--she was
fated, sure to die.

'Oh, Cathy!  Oh, my life! how can I bear it?' was the first sentence he
uttered, in a tone that did not seek to disguise his despair.  And now he
stared at her so earnestly that I thought the very intensity of his gaze
would bring tears into his eyes; but they burned with anguish: they did
not melt.

'What now?' said Catherine, leaning back, and returning his look with a
suddenly clouded brow: her humour was a mere vane for constantly varying
caprices.  'You and Edgar have broken my heart, Heathcliff!  And you both
come to bewail the deed to me, as if you were the people to be pitied!  I
shall not pity you, not I.  You have killed me--and thriven on it, I
think.  How strong you are!  How many years do you mean to live after I
am gone?'

Heathcliff had knelt on one knee to embrace her; he attempted to rise,
but she seized his hair, and kept him down.

'I wish I could hold you,' she continued, bitterly, 'till we were both
dead!  I shouldn't care what you suffered.  I care nothing for your
sufferings.  Why shouldn't you suffer?  I do!  Will you forget me?  Will
you be happy when I am in the earth?  Will you say twenty years hence,
"That's the grave of Catherine Earnshaw?  I loved her long ago, and was
wretched to lose her; but it is past.  I've loved many others since: my
children are dearer to me than she was; and, at death, I shall not
rejoice that I am going to her: I shall be sorry that I must leave
them!"  Will you say so, Heathcliff?'

'Don't torture me till I'm as mad as yourself,' cried he, wrenching his
head free, and grinding his teeth.

The two, to a cool spectator, made a strange and fearful picture.  Well
might Catherine deem that heaven would be a land of exile to her, unless
with her mortal body she cast away her moral character also.  Her present
countenance had a wild vindictiveness in its white cheek, and a bloodless
lip and scintillating eye; and she retained in her closed fingers a
portion of the locks she had been grasping.  As to her companion, while
raising himself with one hand, he had taken her arm with the other; and
so inadequate was his stock of gentleness to the requirements of her
condition, that on his letting go I saw four distinct impressions left
blue in the colourless skin.

'Are you possessed with a devil,' he pursued, savagely, 'to talk in that
manner to me when you are dying?  Do you reflect that all those words
will be branded in my memory, and eating deeper eternally after you have
left me?  You know you lie to say I have killed you: and, Catherine, you
know that I could as soon forget you as my existence!  Is it not
sufficient for your infernal selfishness, that while you are at peace I
shall writhe in the torments of hell?'

'I shall not be at peace,' moaned Catherine, recalled to a sense of
physical weakness by the violent, unequal throbbing of her heart, which
beat visibly and audibly under this excess of agitation.  She said
nothing further till the paroxysm was over; then she continued, more
kindly--

'I'm not wishing you greater torment than I have, Heathcliff.  I only
wish us never to be parted: and should a word of mine distress you
hereafter, think I feel the same distress underground, and for my own
sake, forgive me!  Come here and kneel down again!  You never harmed me
in your life.  Nay, if you nurse anger, that will be worse to remember
than my harsh words!  Won't you come here again?  Do!'

Heathcliff went to the back of her chair, and leant over, but not so far
as to let her see his face, which was livid with emotion.  She bent round
to look at him; he would not permit it: turning abruptly, he walked to
the fireplace, where he stood, silent, with his back towards us.  Mrs.
Linton's glance followed him suspiciously: every movement woke a new
sentiment in her.  After a pause and a prolonged gaze, she resumed;
addressing me in accents of indignant disappointment:--

'Oh, you see, Nelly, he would not relent a moment to keep me out of the
grave.  _That_ is how I'm loved!  Well, never mind.  That is not _my_
Heathcliff.  I shall love mine yet; and take him with me: he's in my
soul.  And,' added she musingly, 'the thing that irks me most is this
shattered prison, after all.  I'm tired of being enclosed here.  I'm
wearying to escape into that glorious world, and to be always there: not
seeing it dimly through tears, and yearning for it through the walls of
an aching heart: but really with it, and in it.  Nelly, you think you are
better and more fortunate than I; in full health and strength: you are
sorry for me--very soon that will be altered.  I shall be sorry for
_you_.  I shall be incomparably beyond and above you all.  I _wonder_ he
won't be near me!'  She went on to herself.  'I thought he wished it.
Heathcliff, dear! you should not be sullen now.  Do come to me,
Heathcliff.'

In her eagerness she rose and supported herself on the arm of the chair.
At that earnest appeal he turned to her, looking absolutely desperate.
His eyes, wide and wet, at last flashed fiercely on her; his breast
heaved convulsively.  An instant they held asunder, and then how they met
I hardly saw, but Catherine made a spring, and he caught her, and they
were locked in an embrace from which I thought my mistress would never be
released alive: in fact, to my eyes, she seemed directly insensible.  He
flung himself into the nearest seat, and on my approaching hurriedly to
ascertain if she had fainted, he gnashed at me, and foamed like a mad
dog, and gathered her to him with greedy jealousy.  I did not feel as if
I were in the company of a creature of my own species: it appeared that
he would not understand, though I spoke to him; so I stood off, and held
my tongue, in great perplexity.

A movement of Catherine's relieved me a little presently: she put up her
hand to clasp his neck, and bring her cheek to his as he held her; while
he, in return, covering her with frantic caresses, said wildly--

'You teach me now how cruel you've been--cruel and false.  _Why_ did you
despise me?  _Why_ did you betray your own heart, Cathy?  I have not one
word of comfort.  You deserve this.  You have killed yourself.  Yes, you
may kiss me, and cry; and wring out my kisses and tears: they'll blight
you--they'll damn you.  You loved me--then what _right_ had you to leave
me?  What right--answer me--for the poor fancy you felt for Linton?
Because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan
could inflict would have parted us, _you_, of your own will, did it.  I
have not broken your heart--_you_ have broken it; and in breaking it, you
have broken mine.  So much the worse for me that I am strong.  Do I want
to live?  What kind of living will it be when you--oh, God! would _you_
like to live with your soul in the grave?'

'Let me alone.  Let me alone,' sobbed Catherine.  'If I've done wrong,
I'm dying for it.  It is enough!  You left me too: but I won't upbraid
you!  I forgive you.  Forgive me!'

'It is hard to forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those wasted
hands,' he answered.  'Kiss me again; and don't let me see your eyes!  I
forgive what you have done to me.  I love _my_ murderer--but _yours_!  How
can I?'

They were silent--their faces hid against each other, and washed by each
other's tears.  At least, I suppose the weeping was on both sides; as it
seemed Heathcliff could weep on a great occasion like this.

I grew very uncomfortable, meanwhile; for the afternoon wore fast away,
the man whom I had sent off returned from his errand, and I could
distinguish, by the shine of the western sun up the valley, a concourse
thickening outside Gimmerton chapel porch.

'Service is over,' I announced.  'My master will be here in half an
hour.'

Heathcliff groaned a curse, and strained Catherine closer: she never
moved.

Ere long I perceived a group of the servants passing up the road towards
the kitchen wing.  Mr. Linton was not far behind; he opened the gate
himself and sauntered slowly up, probably enjoying the lovely afternoon
that breathed as soft as summer.

'Now he is here,' I exclaimed.  'For heaven's sake, hurry down!  You'll
not meet any one on the front stairs.  Do be quick; and stay among the
trees till he is fairly in.'

'I must go, Cathy,' said Heathcliff, seeking to extricate himself from
his companion's arms.  'But if I live, I'll see you again before you are
asleep.  I won't stray five yards from your window.'

'You must not go!' she answered, holding him as firmly as her strength
allowed.  'You _shall_ not, I tell you.'

'For one hour,' he pleaded earnestly.

'Not for one minute,' she replied.

'I _must_--Linton will be up immediately,' persisted the alarmed
intruder.

He would have risen, and unfixed her fingers by the act--she clung fast,
gasping: there was mad resolution in her face.

'No!' she shrieked.  'Oh, don't, don't go.  It is the last time!  Edgar
will not hurt us.  Heathcliff, I shall die!  I shall die!'

'Damn the fool!  There he is,' cried Heathcliff, sinking back into his
seat.  'Hush, my darling!  Hush, hush, Catherine!  I'll stay.  If he shot
me so, I'd expire with a blessing on my lips.'

And there they were fast again.  I heard my master mounting the
stairs--the cold sweat ran from my forehead: I was horrified.

'Are you going to listen to her ravings?' I said, passionately.  'She
does not know what she says.  Will you ruin her, because she has not wit
to help herself?  Get up!  You could be free instantly.  That is the most
diabolical deed that ever you did.  We are all done for--master,
mistress, and servant.'

I wrung my hands, and cried out; and Mr. Linton hastened his step at the
noise.  In the midst of my agitation, I was sincerely glad to observe
that Catherine's arms had fallen relaxed, and her head hung down.

'She's fainted, or dead,' I thought: 'so much the better.  Far better
that she should be dead, than lingering a burden and a misery-maker to
all about her.'

Edgar sprang to his unbidden guest, blanched with astonishment and rage.
What he meant to do I cannot tell; however, the other stopped all
demonstrations, at once, by placing the lifeless-looking form in his
arms.

'Look there!' he said.  'Unless you be a fiend, help her first--then you
shall speak to me!'

He walked into the parlour, and sat down.  Mr. Linton summoned me, and
with great difficulty, and after resorting to many means, we managed to
restore her to sensation; but she was all bewildered; she sighed, and
moaned, and knew nobody.  Edgar, in his anxiety for her, forgot her hated
friend.  I did not.  I went, at the earliest opportunity, and besought
him to depart; affirming that Catherine was better, and he should hear
from me in the morning how she passed the night.

'I shall not refuse to go out of doors,' he answered; 'but I shall stay
in the garden: and, Nelly, mind you keep your word to-morrow.  I shall be
under those larch-trees.  Mind! or I pay another visit, whether Linton be
in or not.'

He sent a rapid glance through the half-open door of the chamber, and,
ascertaining that what I stated was apparently true, delivered the house
of his luckless presence.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Another week passes in Lockwood's life, and his health is improving. He asks Nelly to continue her story of the characters surrounding Wuthering Heights. She begins her tale again by revealing that she manages to give the letter from Heathcliff to her mistress while Edgar and the other servants are at church. Catherine is too sick to understand the letter by herself, so Nelly explains that Heathcliff is waiting to see her. When Catherine agrees, Heathcliff enters and clasps her in his arms. The couple has a long conversation, kiss, and expresses eternal love for each other. Edgar comes home and is enraged to find the uninvited guest. Heathcliff prevents a scene by thrusting the now unconscious Catherine into Edgar's arms and begging him to help her. Heathcliff leaves the room and waits in the garden to find out if Catherine's health is improving.


prompt:
Chapter: About twelve o'clock that night was born the Catherine you saw at
Wuthering Heights: a puny, seven-months' child; and two hours after the
mother died, having never recovered sufficient consciousness to miss
Heathcliff, or know Edgar.  The latter's distraction at his bereavement
is a subject too painful to be dwelt on; its after-effects showed how
deep the sorrow sunk.  A great addition, in my eyes, was his being left
without an heir.  I bemoaned that, as I gazed on the feeble orphan; and I
mentally abused old Linton for (what was only natural partiality) the
securing his estate to his own daughter, instead of his son's.  An
unwelcomed infant it was, poor thing!  It might have wailed out of life,
and nobody cared a morsel, during those first hours of existence.  We
redeemed the neglect afterwards; but its beginning was as friendless as
its end is likely to be.

Next morning--bright and cheerful out of doors--stole softened in through
the blinds of the silent room, and suffused the couch and its occupant
with a mellow, tender glow.  Edgar Linton had his head laid on the
pillow, and his eyes shut.  His young and fair features were almost as
deathlike as those of the form beside him, and almost as fixed: but _his_
was the hush of exhausted anguish, and _hers_ of perfect peace.  Her brow
smooth, her lids closed, her lips wearing the expression of a smile; no
angel in heaven could be more beautiful than she appeared.  And I partook
of the infinite calm in which she lay: my mind was never in a holier
frame than while I gazed on that untroubled image of Divine rest.  I
instinctively echoed the words she had uttered a few hours before:
'Incomparably beyond 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 a peculiarity in me, but I am seldom otherwise than
happy while watching in the chamber of death, should no frenzied or
despairing mourner share the duty with me.  I see a repose that neither
earth nor hell can break, and I feel an assurance of the endless and
shadowless hereafter--the Eternity they have entered--where life is
boundless in its duration, and love in its sympathy, and joy in its
fulness.  I noticed on that occasion how much selfishness there is even
in a love like Mr. Linton's, when he so regretted Catherine's blessed
release!  To be sure, one might have doubted, after the wayward and
impatient existence she had led, whether she merited a haven of peace at
last.  One might doubt in seasons of cold reflection; but not then, in
the presence of her corpse.  It asserted its own tranquillity, which
seemed a pledge of equal quiet to its former inhabitant.

Do you believe such people are happy in the other world, sir?  I'd give a
great deal to know.

I declined answering Mrs. Dean's question, which struck me as something
heterodox.  She proceeded:

Retracing the course of Catherine Linton, I fear we have no right to
think she is; but we'll leave her with her Maker.

The master looked asleep, and I ventured soon after sunrise to quit the
room and steal out to the pure refreshing air.  The servants thought me
gone to shake off the drowsiness of my protracted watch; in reality, my
chief motive was seeing Mr. Heathcliff.  If he had remained among the
larches all night, he would have heard nothing of the stir at the Grange;
unless, perhaps, he might catch the gallop of the messenger going to
Gimmerton.  If he had come nearer, he would probably be aware, from the
lights flitting to and fro, and the opening and shutting of the outer
doors, that all was not right within.  I wished, yet feared, to find him.
I felt the terrible news must be told, and I longed to get it over; but
how to 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 off, and his hair
soaked with the dew that had gathered on the budded branches, and fell
pattering round him.  He had been standing a long time in that position,
for I saw a pair of ousels passing and repassing scarcely three feet from
him, busy in building their nest, and regarding his proximity no more
than that of a piece of timber.  They flew off at my approach, and he
raised his eyes and spoke:--'She's dead!' he said; 'I've not waited for
you to learn that.  Put your handkerchief away--don't snivel before me.
Damn you all! she wants none of your tears!'

I was weeping as much for him as her: we do sometimes pity creatures that
have none of the feeling either for themselves or others.  When I first
looked into his face, I perceived that he had got intelligence of the
catastrophe; and a foolish notion struck me that his heart was quelled
and he prayed, because his lips moved and his gaze was bent on the
ground.

'Yes, she's dead!' I answered, checking my sobs and drying my cheeks.
'Gone to heaven, I hope; where we may, every one, join her, if we take
due warning and leave our evil ways to follow good!'

'Did _she_ take due warning, then?' asked Heathcliff, attempting a sneer.
'Did she die like a saint?  Come, give me a true history of the event.
How did--?'

He endeavoured to pronounce the name, but could not manage it; and
compressing his mouth he held a silent combat with his inward agony,
defying, meanwhile, my sympathy with an unflinching, ferocious stare.
'How did she die?' he resumed, at last--fain, notwithstanding his
hardihood, to have a support behind him; for, after the struggle, he
trembled, in spite of himself, to his very finger-ends.

'Poor wretch!' I thought; 'you have a heart and nerves the same as your
brother men!  Why should you be anxious to conceal them?  Your pride
cannot blind God!  You tempt him to wring them, till he forces a cry of
humiliation.'

'Quietly as a lamb!' I answered, aloud.  'She drew a sigh, and stretched
herself, like a child reviving, and sinking again to sleep; and five
minutes after I felt one little pulse at her heart, and nothing more!'

'And--did she ever mention me?' he asked, hesitating, as if he dreaded
the answer to his question would introduce details that he could not bear
to hear.

'Her senses never returned: she recognised nobody from the time you left
her,' I said.  'She lies with a sweet smile on her face; and her latest
ideas wandered back to pleasant early days.  Her life closed in a gentle
dream--may she wake as kindly in the other world!'

'May she wake in torment!' he cried, with frightful vehemence, stamping
his foot, and groaning in a sudden paroxysm of ungovernable passion.
'Why, she's a liar to the end!  Where is she?  Not _there_--not in
heaven--not perished--where?  Oh! you said you cared nothing for my
sufferings!  And I pray one prayer--I repeat it till my tongue
stiffens--Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living;
you said I killed you--haunt me, then!  The murdered _do_ haunt their
murderers, I believe.  I know that ghosts _have_ wandered on earth.  Be
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 is unutterable!  I
_cannot_ live without my life!  I _cannot_ live without my soul!'

He dashed his head against the knotted trunk; and, lifting up his eyes,
howled, not like a man, but like a savage beast being 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 faded 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; 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 kirk-yard, 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.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: On the night of Heathcliff's visit, Catherine gives birth to a baby girl and then dies. Edgar's sorrow is great, for he has lost his wife without gaining an heir to his property. Nelly breaks the news of the birth and death to Heathcliff. After her master retires, she admits Heathcliff in the house to bid his final farewell to Catherine. Hindley does not attend his sister's funeral although he is invited; Isabella is not asked. The only mourners beside Edgar are the tenants and the servants. As she requested, Catherine is buried neither with the Lintons nor with the Earnshaws, but on an open slope in a corner of the churchyard.