|
Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
||||
 |
||||
|
Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
||||
|
|
||||
226 and the other despaired: they chose their own lots, and were righteously doomed to endure them. But you’ll not want to hear my moralising, Mr. Lockwood; you’ll judge as well as I can, all these things; at least, you’ll think you will, and that’s the same. The end of Earnshaw was what might have been expected; it followed fast on his sister’s,--there were scarcely six months between them. We, at the Grange, never got a very succinct account of his state preceding it; all that I did learn, was on occasion of going to aid in the preparations for the funeral. Mr. Kenneth came to announce the event to my master. “Well, Nelly,” said he, riding into the yard one morning, too early not to alarm me with an instant presentiment of bad news, “it’s yours and my turn to go into mourning at present. Who’s given us the slip now, do you think?” “Who?” I asked in a flurry. “Why, guess!” he returned, dismounting, and slinging his bridle on a hook by the door. “And nip up the corner of your apron; I’m certain you’ll need it.” “Not Mr. Heathcliff, surely?” I exclaimed. “What! would you have tears for him?” said the doctor. “No, Heathcliff’s a tough young fellow: he looks blooming today. I’ve just seen him. He’s rapidly regaining flesh since he lost his better half.” “Who is it then, Mr. Kenneth?” I repeated impatiently. “Hindley Earnshaw! Your old friend Hindley,” he replied, “and my wicked gossip; though he’s been too wild for me this long while. There! I said we should draw water. But cheer up! He died true to his character: drunk as a lord. Poor lad! I’m sorry, too. One |
