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<- Previous | Table of Contents | Next -> Digital Library- Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

into an apt scholar: she learned rapidly and eagerly, and did
honour to his teaching.

Till she reached the age of thirteen, she had not once been
beyond the range of the park by herself. Mr. Linton would take
her with him a mile or so outside, on rare occasions; but he trusted
her to no one else. Gimmerton was an unsubstantial name in her
ears; the chapel, the only building she had approached or entered,
except her own home. Wuthering Heights and Mr. Heathcliff did
not exist for her; she was a perfect recluse, and, apparently,
perfectly contented. Sometimes, indeed, while surveying the
country from her nursery window, she would observe--

“Ellen, how long will it be before I can walk to the top of those
hills? I wonder what lies on the other side--is it the sea?”

“No, Miss Cathy,” I would answer; “it is hills again, just like

“And what are those golden rocks like, when you stand under
them?” she once asked.

The abrupt descent of Penistone Crags particularly attracted
her notice; especially when the setting sun shone on it and the
topmost heights, and the whole extent of landscape besides lay in

I explained that they were bare masses of stone, with hardly
enough earth in their clefts to nourish a stunted tree.

“And why are they bright so long after it is evening here?” she

“Because they are a great deal higher up than we are,” replied
I; “you could not climb them, they are too high and steep. In
winter the frost is always there before it comes to us; and deep
into summer I have found snow under that black hollow on the

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