d firstly, let me beware of the fascination that lurks in
Catherine Heathcliff's brilliant eyes. I should be in a curious taking
if I surrendered my heart to that young person, and the daughter turned
out a second edition of the mother.

CHAPTER XV

Another week over--and I am so many days nearer health, and spring! I
have now heard all my neighbour's history, at different sittings, as the
housekeeper could spare time from more important occupations. I'll
continue it in her own words, only a little condensed. She is, on the
whole, a very fair narrator, and I don't think I could improve her style.

In the evening, she said, the evening of my visit to the Heights, I knew,
as well as if I saw him, that Mr. Heathcliff was about the place; and I
shunned going out, because I still carried his letter in my pocket, and
didn't want to be threatened or teased any more. I had made up my mind
not to give it till my master went somewhere, as I could not guess how
its receipt would affect Catherine. The consequence was, that it did not
reach her before the lapse of three days. The fourth was Sunday, and I
brought it into her room after the family were gone to church. There was
a manservant left to keep the house with me, and we generally made a
practice of locking the doors during the hours of service; but on that
occasion the weather was so warm and pleasant that I set them wide open,
and, to fulfil my engagement, as I knew who would be coming, I told my
companion that the mistress wished very much for some oranges, and he
must run over to the village and get a few, to be paid for on the morrow.
He departed, and I went up-stairs.

Mrs. Linton sat in a loose white dress, with a light shawl over her
shoulders, in the recess of the open window, as usual. Her thick, long
hair had been partly removed at the beginning of her illness, and now she
wore it simply combed in its natural tresses over her temples and neck.
Her appearance was altered, as I had told Heathcliff; but when she was
calm, there seemed unearthly beauty in the change. The flash of her eyes
had been succeeded by a dreamy and melancholy softness; they no longer
gave the impression of looking at the objects around her: they appeared
always to gaze beyond, and far beyond--you would have said out of this
world. Then, the paleness of her face--its haggard aspect having
vanished as she recovered flesh--and the peculiar expression arising from
her mental st