A movement of Catherines relieved me a little presently: she put up her hand to clasp his neck, and bring her cheek to his as he held her; while he, in return, covering her with frantic caresses, said wildly-
“You teach me now how cruel youve been-cruel and false. Why did you despise me? I have not one word of comfort. You deserve this. You have killed yourself. Yes, you may kiss me, and cry; and wring out my kisses and tears: theyll blight you-theyll damn you. You loved me-then what right had you to leave me? What right-answer me-for the poor fancy you felt for Linton? Because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart-you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. So much the worse for me that I am strong. What kind of living will it be when you-oh, God! would you like to live with your soul in the grave?”
“Let me alone. Let me alone,” sobbed Catherine. “If Ive done wrong, Im dying for it. It is enough! You left me too: but I wont upbraid you! I forgive you. Forgive me!”
Do I want to live?
“It is hard to forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those wasted hands,” he answered. “Kiss me again; and dont let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer-but yours! ”
They were silent-their faces hid against each other, and washed by each others tears. At least, I suppose the weeping was on both sides; as it seemed Heathcliff could weep on a great occasion like this.
I grew very uncomfortable, meanwhile; for the afternoon wore fast away, the man whom I had sent off returned from his errand, and I could distinguish, by the shine of the western sun up the valley, a concourse thickening outside Gimmerton chapel porch.
Ere long I perceived a group of the servants passing up the road towards the kitchen wing. Mr. Linton was not far behind; he opened the gate himself and sauntered slowly up, probably enjoying the lovely afternoon that breathed as soft as summer.
How can I?
“Now he is here,” I exclaimed. “For heavens sake, hurry down! Youll not meet any one on the front stairs. Do proceed this site be quick; and stay among the trees till he is fairly in.”
“I must go, Cathy,” said Heathcliff, seeking to extricate himself from his companions arms. “But if I live, Ill see you again before you are asleep. I wont stray five yards from your window.”
“You must not go!” she answered, holding him as firmly as her strength allowed. “You shall not, I tell you.”
He would have risen, and unfixed her fingers by the act-she clung fast, gasping: there was mad resolution in her face.
“No!” she shrieked. “Oh, dont, dont go. It is the last time! Edgar will not hurt us. Heathcliff, I shall die! I shall die!”
“Damn the fool! There he is,” cried Heathcliff, sinking back into his seat. “Hush, my darling! Hush, hush, Catherine! Ill stay. If he shot me so, Id expire with a blessing on my lips.”
And there they were fast again. I heard my master mounting the stairs-the cold sweat ran from my forehead: I was horrified.
“Are you going to listen to her ravings?” I said, passionately. “She does not know what she says. Will you ruin her, because she has not wit to help herself? Get up! You could be free instantly. That is the most diabolical deed that ever you did. We are all done for-master, mistress, and servant.”