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was enough to make a fiend of a saint. And, truly, it appeared as if
the lad were possessed of something diabolical at that period. He
delighted to witness Hindley degrading himself past redemption;
and became daily more notable for savage sullenness and ferocity.
I could not half tell what an infernal house we had. The curate
dropped calling, and nobody decent came near us, at last, unless
Edgar Linton’s visits to Miss Cathy might be an exception. At
fifteen she was the queen of the countryside; she had no peer; and
she did turn out a haughty, headstrong creature! I own I did not
like her, after her infancy was past; and I vexed her frequently by
trying to bring down her arrogance: she never took an aversion to
me, though. She had a wondrous constancy to old attachments;
even Heathcliff kept his hold on her affections unalterably; and
young Linton, with all his superiority, found it difficult to make an
equally deep impression.
He was my late master; that is his portrait over the fireplace. It
used to hang on one side, and his wife’s on the other; but hers has
been removed, or else you might see something of what she was.
Can you make that out?
Mrs. Dean raised the candle, and I discerned a soft-featured
face, exceedingly resembling the young lady at the Heights, but
more pensive and amiable in expression. It formed a sweet
picture. The long light hair curled slightly on the temples; the eyes
were large and serious; the figure almost too graceful. I did not
marvel how Catherine Earnshaw could forget her first friend for
such an individual. I marvelled much how he, with a mind to
correspond with his person, could fancy my idea of Catherine
“A very agreeable portrait,” I observed to the housekeeper. “Is