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Chapter 14

As soon as I had perused this epistle, I went to the master,
and informed him that his sister had arrived at the
Heights, and sent me a letter expressing her sorrow for
Mrs. Linton’s situation, and her ardent desire to see him, with a
wish that he would transmit to her, as early as possible, some
token of forgiveness by me.

“Forgiveness!” said Linton. “I have nothing to forgive her,
Ellen--You may call at Wuthering Heights this afternoon, if you
like, and say that I am not angry, but I’m sorry to have lost her;
especially as I can never think she’ll be happy. It is out of the
question my going to see her, however: we are eternally divided;
and should she really wish to oblige me, let her persuade the
villain she has married to leave the country.”

“And you won’t write her a little note, sir?” I asked imploringly.
“No,” he answered. “It is needless. My communication with
Heathcliff’s family shall be as sparing as his with mine. It shall not

Mr. Edgar’s coldness depressed me exceedingly; and all the way
from the Grange I puzzled my brains how to put more heart into
what he said, when I repeated it; and how to soften his refusal of
even a few lines to console Isabella.

I dare say she had been on the watch for me since morning: I
saw her looking through the lattice, as I came up the garden
causeway, and I nodded to her; but she drew back, as if afraid of
being observed.

I entered without knocking. There never was such a dreary,
dismal scene as the formerly cheerful house presented! I must

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