to repeat these thoughts to you: only it will let you
know why, with a reluctance to be always alone, his society is no
benefit; rather an aggravation of the constant torment I suffer: and it
partly contributes to render me regardless how he and his cousin go on
together. I can give them no attention any more.'

'But what do you mean by a _change_, Mr. Heathcliff?' I said, alarmed at
his manner: though he was neither in danger of losing his senses, nor
dying, according to my judgment: he was quite strong and healthy; and, as
to his reason, from childhood he had a delight in dwelling on dark
things, and entertaining odd fancies. He might have had a monomania on
the subject of his departed idol; but on every other point his wits were
as sound as mine.

'I shall not know that till it comes,' he said; 'I'm only half conscious
of it now.'

'You have no feeling of illness, have you?' I asked.

'No, Nelly, I have not,' he answered.

'Then you are not afraid of death?' I pursued.

'Afraid? No!' he replied. 'I have neither a fear, nor a presentiment,
nor a hope of death. Why should I? With my hard constitution and
temperate mode of living, and unperilous occupations, I ought to, and
probably _shall_, remain above ground till there is scarcely a black hair
on my head. And yet I cannot continue in this condition! I have to
remind myself to breathe--almost to remind my heart to beat! And it is
like bending back a stiff spring: it is by compulsion that I do the
slightest act not prompted by one thought; and by compulsion that I
notice anything alive or dead, which is not associated with one universal
idea. I have a single wish, and my whole being and faculties are
yearning to attain it. They have yearned towards it so long, and so
unwaveringly, that I'm convinced it will be reached--and soon--because it
has devoured my existence: I am swallowed up in the anticipation of its
fulfilment. My confessions have not relieved me; but they may account
for some otherwise unaccountable phases of humour which I show. O God!
It is a long fight; I wish it were over!'

He began to pace the room, muttering terrible things to himself, till I
was inclined to believe, as he said Joseph did, that conscience had
turned his heart to an earthly hell. I wondered greatly how it would
end. Though he seldom before had revealed this state of mind, even by
looks, it was his habitual mood, I had no doubt: he asserted it himself;
but not a