cular portion, up and down, with glittering, restless
eyes, and with such eager interest that he stopped breathing during half
a minute together....

"'Mr. Heathcliff! master!' I cried, 'don't, for God's sake stare as if
you saw an unearthly vision.'

"'Don't, for God's sake, shout so loud,' he replied. 'Turn round, and
tell me, are we by ourselves?'

"'Of course,' was my answer, 'of course we are.'

"Still, I involuntarily obeyed him, as if I were not quite sure. With a
sweep of his hand he cleared a space in front of the breakfast-things,
and leant forward more at his ease.

"Now I perceived that he was not looking at the wall; for, when I
regarded him alone, it seemed exactly that he gazed at something within
two yards' distance. And, whatever it was, it communicated, apparently,
both pleasure and pain in exquisite extremes: at least the anguished,
yet raptured, expression of his countenance suggested that idea. The
fancied object was not fixed: either his eyes pursued it with unwearied
diligence, and, even in speaking to me, were never weaned away. I vainly
reminded him of his protracted abstinence from food: if he stirred to
touch anything in compliance with my entreaties, if he stretched his
hand out to get a piece of bread, his fingers clenched before they
reached it, and remained on the table, forgetful of their aim."

He cannot sleep; and at dawn of the next day he comes to the door of his
room--Cathy's room--and calls Nelly to him. She remonstrates with him
for his neglect of his body's health, and of his soul's.

"'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 said.... 'I'll do
both as soon as I possibly can ... as to repenting of my injustices,
I've done no injustice, and I repent of nothing. I am too happy; and yet
I'm not happy enough. My soul's bliss kills my body, but does not
satisfy itself.'" ... "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
Catherin