since; but sit down, and I'll tell you all about it."

"I was summoned to Wuthering Heights," she said, "within a fortnight of
your leaving us, and I went gladly for Catherine's sake. Mr. Heathcliff,
who grew more and more disinclined to society, almost banished Earnshaw
from his apartment, and was tired of seeing Catherine--that was the
reason why I was sent for--and the two young people were thrown perforce
much in each other's company in the house, and presently Catherine began
to make it clear to her obstinate cousin that she wished to be friends.
The intimacy ripened rapidly, and, Mr. Lockwood, on their wedding day
there won't be a happier woman in England than myself. Joseph was the
only objector, and he appealed to Heathcliff against 'yon flaysome
graceless quean, that's witched our lad wi' her bold een and her forrad
ways.' But after a burst of passion at the news, Mr. Heathcliff suddenly
calmed down and said to me, 'Nelly, there is a strange change
approaching; I'm in its shadow.'

"Soon after that he took to wandering alone, in a state approaching
distraction. He could not rest; he could not eat; and he would not see
the doctor. One morning as I walked 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.'
And so it was, for when I entered the chamber his face and throat were
washed with rain, the bed-clothes dripped, and he was perfectly
still--dead and stark. I called up Joseph. 'Eh, what a wicked 'un he
looks, girning at death,' exclaimed the old man, and then he fell on his
knees and returned thanks that the ancient Earnshaw stock were restored
to their rights.

"I shall be glad when they leave the Heights for the Grange," concluded
Mrs. Dean.

"They are going to the Grange, then?"

"Yes, as soon as they are married; and that will be on New Year's Day."

* * * * *

ROBERT BUCHANAN

The Shadow of the Sword

Robert Buchanan, poet, novelist, and playwright, was born on
Aug. 18, 1841, at Caverswall, Staffordshire, England, the son
of a poor journeyman tailor from Ayrshire, in Scotland, who
wrote poetry, and wandered about the country preaching
socialism of the Owen type, afterwards editing a Glasgow
journal. Owing, perhaps, in part to his very unconventional
training, Robert Buchanan entered on life with a stra