hed it to death, and
flung it back to me. People feel with their hearts, Ellen: and since he
has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him: and I would not,
though he groaned from this to his dying day, and wept tears of blood for
Catherine! No, indeed, indeed, I wouldn't!' And here Isabella began to
cry; but, immediately dashing the water from her lashes, she recommenced.
'You asked, what has driven me to flight at last? I was compelled to
attempt it, because I had succeeded in rousing his rage a pitch above his
malignity. Pulling out the nerves with red hot pincers requires more
coolness than knocking on the head. He was worked up to forget the
fiendish prudence he boasted of, and proceeded to murderous violence. I
experienced pleasure in being able to exasperate him: the sense of
pleasure woke my instinct of self-preservation, so I fairly broke free;
and if ever I come into his hands again he is welcome to a signal
revenge.
'Yesterday, you know, Mr. Earnshaw should have been at the funeral. He
kept himself sober for the purpose--tolerably sober: not going to bed mad
at six o'clock and getting up drunk at twelve. Consequently, he rose, in
suicidal low spirits, as fit for the church as for a dance; and instead,
he sat down by the fire and swallowed gin or brandy by tumblerfuls.
'Heathcliff--I shudder to name him! has been a stranger in the house from
last Sunday till to-day. Whether the angels have fed him, or his kin
beneath, I cannot tell; but he has not eaten a meal with us for nearly a
week. He has just come home at dawn, and gone up-stairs to his chamber;
locking himself in--as if anybody dreamt of coveting his company! There
he has continued, praying like a Methodist: only the deity he implored is
senseless dust and ashes; and God, when addressed, was curiously
confounded with his own black father! After concluding these precious
orisons--and they lasted generally till he grew hoarse and his voice was
strangled in his throat--he would be off again; always straight down to
the Grange! I wonder Edgar did not send for a constable, and give him
into custody! For me, grieved as I was about Catherine, it was
impossible to avoid regarding this season of deliverance from degrading
oppression as a holiday.
'I recovered spirits sufficient to bear Joseph's eternal lectures without
weeping, and to move up and down the house less with the foot of a
frightened thief than formerly. You wouldn't think
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