XIII. “I Am Colin”

           MarytookthepicturebacktothehousewhenshewenttohersupperandsheshowedittoMartha.

           “Eh!”saidMarthawithgreatpride.“IneverknewourDickonwasascleverasthat.Thatthere’sapictureofamisselthrushonhernest,aslargeaslifean’twiceasnatural.”

           ThenMaryknewDickonhadmeantthepicturetobeamessage.Hehadmeantthatshemightbesurehewouldkeephersecret.Hergardenwashernestandshewaslikeamisselthrush.Oh,howshedidlikethatqueer,commonboy!

           Shehopedhewouldcomebacktheverynextdayandshefellasleeplookingforwardtothemorning.

           ButyouneverknowwhattheweatherwilldoinYorkshire,particularlyinthespringtime.Shewasawakenedinthenightbythesoundofrainbeatingwithheavydropsagainstherwindow.Itwaspouringdownintorrentsandthewindwas“wuthering”roundthecornersandinthechimneysofthehugeoldhouse.Marysatupinbedandfeltmiserableandangry.

           “TherainisascontraryasIeverwas,”shesaid.“ItcamebecauseitknewIdidnotwantit.”

           Shethrewherselfbackonherpillowandburiedherface.Shedidnotcry,butshelayandhatedthesoundoftheheavilybeatingrain,shehatedthewindandits“wuthering.”Shecouldnotgotosleepagain.Themournfulsoundkeptherawakebecauseshefeltmournfulherself.Ifshehadfelthappyitwouldprobablyhavelulledhertosleep.Howit“wuthered”andhowthebigraindropspoureddownandbeatagainstthepane!

           “Itsoundsjustlikeapersonlostonthemoorandwanderingonandoncrying,”shesaid.