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

“And nowhere else?” I demanded.
“No,” was the muttered reply.
“Oh, Catherine!” I cried, sorrowfully. “You know you have been
doing wrong, or you wouldn’t be driven to uttering an untruth to
me. That does grieve me. I’d rather be three months ill, than hear
you frame a deliberate lie.”

She sprang forward and, bursting into tears, threw her arms
round my neck.

“Well, Ellen, I’m so afraid of you being angry,” she said.
“Promise not to be angry, and you shall know the very truth: I
hate to hide it.”

We sat down in the window-seat; I assured her I would not
scold, whatever her secret might be, and I guessed it, of course; so
she commenced--

“I’ve been to Wuthering Heights, Ellen, and I’ve never missed
going a day since you fell ill; except thrice before and twice after
you left your room. I gave Michael books and pictures to prepare
Minny every evening, and to put her back in the stable--you
mustn’t scold him either, mind. I was at the Heights by half-past
six, and generally stayed till half-past eight, and then galloped
home. It was not to amuse myself that I went--I was often
wretched all the time. Now and then, I was happy; once in a week
perhaps. At first, I expected there would be sad work persuading
you to let me keep my word to Linton; for I had engaged to call
again next day, when we quitted him; but, as you stayed upstairs
on the morrow, I escaped that trouble; and while Michael was
refastening the lock of the park door in the afternoon, I got
possession of the key, and told him how my cousin wished me to
visit him, because he was sick, and couldn’t come to the Grange;

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