Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 06
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Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 06
Literature -- Collections
He roamed to and fro, meantime, in a state approaching distraction, his
heavy sighs succeeding each other so thick as to leave no space for
common breathing between.
"When day breaks, I'll send for Green," he said; "I wish to make some
legal inquiries of him, while I can bestow a thought on those matters,
and while I can act calmly. I have not written my will yet, and how to
leave my property I cannot determine! I wish I could annihilate it from
the face of the earth."
"I would not talk so, Mr. Heathcliff," I interposed. "Let your will be a
while--you'll be spared to repent of your many injustices yet! I never
expected that your nerves would be disordered--they are, at present,
marvelously so, however; and almost entirely through your own fault. The
way you've passed these last three days might knock up a Titan. Do take
some food and some repose. You need only look at yourself in a glass to
see how you require both. Your cheeks are hollow and your eyes
bloodshot, like a person starving with hunger and going blind with loss
of sleep."
"It is not my fault that I cannot eat or rest," he replied. "I assure
you it is through no settled designs. I'll do both as soon as I possibly
can. But you might as well bid a man struggling in the water rest within
arm's-length of the shore! I must reach it first, and then I'll rest.
Well, never mind Mr. Green; as to repenting of my injustices, I've done
no injustice, and I repent of nothing. I'm too happy, and yet I'm not
happy enough. My soul's bliss kills my body, but does not
satisfy itself."
"Happy, master?" I cried. "Strange happiness! If you would hear me
without being angry, I might offer some advice that would make
you happier."
"What is that?" he asked. "Give it."
"You are aware, Mr. Heathcliff," I said, "that from the time you were
thirteen years old you have lived a selfish, unchristian life: and
probably hardly had a Bible in your hands during all that period. You
must have forgotten the contents of the book, and you may not have space
to search it now. Could it be hurtful to send for some one--some
minister of any denomination, it does not matter which--to explain it,
and show you how very far you have erred from its precepts, and how
unfit you will be for its heaven, unless a change takes place before
you die?"
"I'm rather obliged than angry, Nelly," he said, "for you remind me of
the manner that I desire to be buried in. It is to be carried to the
churchyard in the evening. You and Hareton may, if you please, accompany
me--and mind, particularly, to notice that the sexton obeys my
directions concerning the two coffins! No minister need come; nor need
anything be said over me. I tell you, I have nearly attained _my_
heaven; and that of others is altogether unvalued and uncoveted by me!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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