e 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 t