Грозовой перевал

           Isetmyburdenonthehousestepsbythekitchendoor,andlingeredtorest,anddrewinafewmorebreathsofthesoft,sweetair;myeyeswereonthemoon,andmybacktotheentrance,whenIheardavoicebehindmesay—"Nelly,isthatyou?"

           Itwasadeepvoice,andforeignintone;yettherewassomethinginthemannerofpronouncingmynamewhichmadeitsoundfamiliar.Iturnedabouttodiscoverwhospoke,fearfully;forthedoorswereshut,andIhadseennobodyonapproachingthesteps.Somethingstirredintheporch;and,movingnearer,Idistinguishedatallmandressedindarkclothes,withdarkfaceandhair.Heleantagainsttheside,andheldhisfingersonthelatchasifintendingtoopenforhimself."Whocanitbe?"Ithought."Mr.Earnshaw?Oh,no!Thevoicehasnoresemblance."

           "Ihavewaitedhereanhour,"heresumed,whileIcontinuedstaring;"andthewholeofthattimeallroundhasbeenasstillasdeath.Idarednotenter.Youdonotknowme?Look,I’mnotastranger!"

           Arayfellonhisfeatures;thecheeksweresallow,andhalfcoveredwithblackwhiskers;thebrowslowering,theeyesdeepsetandsingular.Irememberedtheeyes.

           "What!"Icried,uncertainwhethertoregardhimasaworldlyvisitor,andIraisedmyhandsinamazement."What!youcomeback?Isitreallyyou?Isit?"

           "Yes,Heathcliff,"hereplied,glancingfrommeuptothewindows,whichreflectedascoreofglitteringmoons,butshowednolightsfromwithin.