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“You! I should be sorry to ask you to cross the threshold, for my
convenience, on such a night,” I cried. “I want you to tell me my
way, not to show it; or else to persuade Mr. Heathcliff to give me a
“Who? There is himself, Earnshaw, Zillah, Joseph, and I. Which
would you have?”
“Are there no boys at the farm?”
“No; those are all.”
“Then, it follows that I am compelled to stay.”
“That you may settle with your host. I have nothing to do with
“I hope it will be a lesson to you, to make no more rash journeys
on these hills,” cried Heathcliff’s stern voice from the kitchen
entrance. “As to staying here, I don’t keep accommodations for
visitors: you must share a bed with Hareton, or Joseph, if you do.”
“I can sleep on a chair in this room,” I replied.
“No, no! A stranger is a stranger, be he rich or poor: it will not
suit me to permit any one the range of the place while I am off
guard!” said the unmannerly wretch.
With this insult, my patience was at an end. I uttered an
expression of disgust, and pushed past him into the yard, running
against Earnshaw in my haste. It was so dark that I could not see
the means of exit; and, as I wandered round, I heard another
specimen of their civil behaviour amongst each other. At first, the
young man appeared about to befriend me.
“I’ll go with him as far as the park,” he said.
“You’ll go with him to hell!” exclaimed his master, or whatever
relation he bore. “And who is to look after the horses, eh?”
“A man’s life is of more consequence than one evening’s neglect