live on the day he led her to
Gimmerton Chapel, three years subsequent to his father's death.
Much against my inclination, I was persuaded to leave Wuthering Heights
and accompany her here. Little Hareton was nearly five years old, and I
had just begun to teach him his letters. We made a sad parting; but
Catherine's tears were more powerful than ours. When I refused to go,
and when she found her entreaties did not move me, she went lamenting to
her husband and brother. The former offered me munificent wages; the
latter ordered me to pack up: he wanted no women in the house, he said,
now that there was no mistress; and as to Hareton, the curate should take
him in hand, by-and-by. And so I had but one choice left: to do as I was
ordered. I told the master he got rid of all decent people only to run
to ruin a little faster; I kissed Hareton, said good-by; and since then
he has been a stranger: and it's very queer to think it, but I've no
doubt he has completely forgotten all about Ellen Dean, and that he was
ever more than all the world to her and she to him!
* * * * *
At this point of the housekeeper's story she chanced to glance towards
the time-piece over the chimney; and was in amazement on seeing the
minute-hand measure half-past one. She would not hear of staying a
second longer: in truth, I felt rather disposed to defer the sequel of
her narrative myself. And now that she is vanished to her rest, and I
have meditated for another hour or two, I shall summon courage to go
also, in spite of aching laziness of head and limbs.
CHAPTER X
A charming introduction to a hermit's life! Four weeks' torture,
tossing, and sickness! Oh, these bleak winds and bitter northern skies,
and impassable roads, and dilatory country surgeons! And oh, this dearth
of the human physiognomy! and, worse than all, the terrible intimation of
Kenneth that I need not expect to be out of doors till spring!
Mr. Heathcliff has just honoured me with a call. About seven days ago he
sent me a brace of grouse--the last of the season. Scoundrel! He is not
altogether guiltless in this illness of mine; and that I had a great mind
to tell him. But, alas! how could I offend a man who was charitable
enough to sit at my bedside a good hour, and talk on some other subject
than pills and draughts, blisters and leeches? This is quite an easy
interval. I am too weak to read; yet I feel as if I could enjoy
something interesting. Wh
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