upon my desiring to hear her reply, she merely
pointed to the name, and gazed at me with mournful and questioning
eagerness.

'Well, he wishes to see you,' said I, guessing her need of an
interpreter. 'He's in the garden by this time, and impatient to know
what answer I shall bring.'

As I spoke, I observed a large dog lying on the sunny grass beneath raise
its ears as if about to bark, and then smoothing them back, announce, by
a wag of the tail, that some one approached whom it did not consider a
stranger. Mrs. Linton bent forward, and listened breathlessly. The
minute after a step traversed the hall; the open house was too tempting
for Heathcliff to resist walking in: most likely he supposed that I was
inclined to shirk my promise, and so resolved to trust to his own
audacity. With straining eagerness Catherine gazed towards the entrance
of her chamber. He did not hit the right room directly: she motioned me
to admit him, but he found it out ere I could reach the door, and in a
stride or two was at her side, and had her grasped in his arms.

He neither spoke nor loosed his hold for some five minutes, during which
period he bestowed more kisses than ever he gave in his life before, I
daresay: but then my mistress had kissed him first, and I plainly saw
that he could hardly bear, for downright agony, to look into her face!
The same conviction had stricken him as me, from the instant he beheld
her, that there was no prospect of ultimate recovery there--she was
fated, sure to die.

'Oh, Cathy! Oh, my life! how can I bear it?' was the first sentence he
uttered, in a tone that did not seek to disguise his despair. And now he
stared at her so earnestly that I thought the very intensity of his gaze
would bring tears into his eyes; but they burned with anguish: they did
not melt.

'What now?' said Catherine, leaning back, and returning his look with a
suddenly clouded brow: her humour was a mere vane for constantly varying
caprices. 'You and Edgar have broken my heart, Heathcliff! And you both
come to bewail the deed to me, as if you were the people to be pitied! I
shall not pity you, not I. You have killed me--and thriven on it, I
think. How strong you are! How many years do you mean to live after I
am gone?'

Heathcliff had knelt on one knee to embrace her; he attempted to rise,
but she seized his hair, and kept him down.

'I wish I could hold you,' she continued, bitterly, 'till we were both
dead! I