Грозовий перевал

           Theservantsthoughtmegonetoshakeoffthedrowsinessofmyprotractedwatch;inreality,mychiefmotivewasseeingMr.Heathcliff.Ifhehadremainedamongthelarchesallnight,hewouldhaveheardnothingofthestirattheGrange;unless,perhaps,hemightcatchthegallopofthemessengergoingtoGimmerton.Ifhehadcomenearer,hewouldprobablybeaware,fromthelightsflittingtoandfro,andtheopeningandshuttingoftheouterdoors,thatallwasnotrightwithin.Iwished,yetfeared,tofindhim.Ifelttheterriblenewsmustbetold,andIlongedtogetitover;buthowtodoit,Ididnotknow.Hewasthere—atleastafewyardsfurtherinthepark;leantagainstanoldashtree,hishatoff,andhishairsoakedwiththedewthathadgatheredonthebuddedbranches,andfellpatteringroundhim.Hehadbeenstandingalongtimeinthatposition,forIsawapairofouselspassingandrepassingscarcelythreefeetfromhim,busyinbuildingtheirnestandregardinghisproximitynomorethanthatofapieceoftimber.Theyflewoffatmyapproach,andheraisedhiseyesandspoke—

           "She’sdead!"hesaid;"I’venotwaitedforyoutolearnthat.Putyourhandkerchiefaway—don’tsnivelbeforeme.Damnyouall!shewantsnoneofyourtears!"

           Iwasweepingasmuchforhimasher;wedosometimespitycreaturesthathavenoneofthefeelingeitherforthemselvesorothers.