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by his perseverance to give him a chance of bestowing on the
fading image of his idol one final adieu. He did not omit to avail
himself of the opportunity, cautiously and briefly--too cautiously
to betray his presence by the slightest noise. Indeed, I shouldn’t
have discovered that he had been there, except for the
disarrangement of the drapery about the corpse’s face, and for
observing on the floor a curl of light hair, fastened with a silver
thread; which, on examination, I ascertained to have been taken
from a locket hung round Catherine’s neck. Heathcliff had opened
the trinket and cast out its contents, replacing them by a black
lock of his own. I twisted the two, and enclosed them together.
Mr. Earnshaw was, of course, invited to attend the remains of
his sister to the grave; and he sent no excuse, but he never came;
so that, besides her husband, the mourners were wholly composed
of tenants and servants. Isabella was not asked.
The place of Catherine’s interment, to the surprise of the
villagers, was neither in the chapel, under the carved monument
of the Lintons, nor yet by the tombs of her own relations, outside.
It was dug on a green slope in a corner of the kirkyard, where the
wall is so low that heath and bilberry plants have climbed over it
from the moor; and peat mould almost buries it. Her husband lies
in the same spot now; and they have each a simple headstone
above, and a plain grey block at their feet, to mark the graves.