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
"And supposing you persevered in your obstinate fast, and died by that
means, and they refused to bury you in the precincts of the kirk?" I
said, shocked at his godless indifference. "How would you like it?"
"They won't do that," he replied; "if they did, you must have me removed
secretly; and if you neglect it, you shall prove practically that the
dead are not annihilated!"
As soon as he heard the other members of the family stirring, he retired
to his den, and I breathed freer. But in the afternoon, while Joseph and
Hareton were at their work, he came into the kitchen again, and with a
wild look bid me come and sit in the house--he wanted somebody with him.
I declined, telling him plainly that his strange talk and manner
frightened me, and I had neither the nerve nor the will to be his
companion alone.
"I believe you think me a fiend!" he said, with his dismal laugh;
"something too horrible to live under a decent roof!"
Then turning to Catherine, who was there, and who drew behind me at his
approach, he added, half sneeringly:--
"Will _you_ come, chuck? I'll not hurt you. No! to you I've made myself
worse than the devil. Well, there is _one_ who won't shrink from my
company! By God! she's relentless. Oh, damn it! It's unutterably too
much for flesh and blood to bear, even mine."
He solicited the society of no one more. At dusk he went into his
chamber. Through the whole night, and far into the morning, we heard him
groaning and murmuring to himself. Hareton was anxious to enter, but I
bid him fetch Mr. Kenneth, and he should go in and see him.
When he came, and I requested admittance and tried to open the door, I
found it locked; and Heathcliff bid us be damned. He was better, and
would be left alone; so the doctor went away.
The following evening was very wet; indeed, it poured down till
day-dawn; and as I took my morning walk round the house, I observed the
master's window swinging open, and the rain driving straight in.
"He cannot be in bed," I thought: "those showers would drench him
through! He must be either up or out. But I'll make no more ado; I'll go
boldly, and look!"
Having succeeded in obtaining entrance with another key, I ran to
unclose the panels, for the chamber was vacant--quickly pushing them
aside, I peeped in. Mr. Heathcliff was there--laid on his back. His eyes
met mine, so keen and fierce that I started; and then he seemed
to smile.
I could not think him dead--but his face and throat were washed with
rain; the bed-clothes dripped, and he was perfectly still. The lattice,
flapping to and fro, had grazed one hand that rested on the sill--no
blood trickled from the broken skin, and when I put my fingers to it I
could doubt no more--he was dead and stark!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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