I like to read that wonderful preface, which can always give people a sense of enlightenment.
This book gave me the feeling that after reading it, my whole mood will be lost for a while, and I will not be able to calm down for a long time.
In particular, "Jane Eyre" and "Wuthering Heights" are like a pair of small but dazzling cat's eye gemstones. When people browse the British literary heritage of the nineteenth century, they can't help but be surprised to find that these are rare treasures. One of them is even more nostalgic and admirable, and people can't help but regret that this talented girl if she hadn't died prematurely, how many brilliant chapters would have been left to nurture the readers' hearts!
The thirty years that Emily Bronte lived were a time of social upheaval in Britain. Capitalism is developing and increasingly revealing its inherent flaws; the contradiction between labor and capital is sharpening; the poverty of unemployed workers; a large number of child laborers are brutally tortured to death.
The family has always lived in isolation, and the four siblings often spend their lonely time reading, writing poetry, and making up legends. Charlotte and Branwell wrote their novels centered on the imaginary Anglian dynasty, while Emily and her younger sister Ann created a Pacific island they called Gondor to make up their stories.
Emily and her sisters often went for walks in the wilderness to the west. So on the one hand the Brontë sisters saw the capitalist society developing in the towns, and on the other hand, they were infected by the atmosphere of the wilderness. Emily in particular, she is taciturn on the outside but passionate on the inside.
The family has very little income and is quite financially strapped. The three sisters had to often go out to make a living and supplemented their families by teaching or working as tutors. They suffered hardships and setbacks for several years. Charlotte had planned on opening a school of their own, so she and Emily went to Brussels to study for a year, before leaving when Charlotte broke up. In 1846 they raised their own funds and published a collection of poems under false names.
Their only brother, Branwell, also contracted lung disease due to long-term alcohol and drug addiction.
This extremely talented young female writer, who was later famous in the world of literature, regretted leaving the world where she could only taste indifference.
I'm the only one, doomed
No one cares, no one weeps;
Since I was born, it has never caused
A gleam of worry, a happy smile.
In secret joys, secret tears,
This ever-changing life just slipped by,
Eighteen years later still helpless,
As lonely as the day I was born. …
At first, the hope of youth was melted,
Then the phantom rainbow quickly recedes;
So experience tells me, to tell the truth
Never grow up in the human heart.
But she wanted to cheer up and make a difference, but she couldn't. This painful ideological struggle and near despair can also be found in her poems from the same period:
But now when I wish to sing,
My fingers plucked a soundless string;
And the refrain of the lyrics is still
'Stop fighting,' all in vain.
The servants watched on, knowing what the suffocating rapid breathing and dull eyes certainly meant.
Among them, Emily Bronte's poems say that the extraordinary enthusiasm, strong emotion, sadness, and boldness in her heart have been unmatched since Byron's death.
"Wuthering Heights" expresses the spiritual oppression, tension, and conflict of people in the capitalist society of the nineteenth century in the form of artistic imagination. It is a film without idealism, false consolation, and without any suggestion that the forces that manipulate their destiny are beyond the struggle and action of human beings themselves.
A powerful call to nature, wilderness, storms, stars, and seasons is an important part of the true movement to reveal life itself. The men and women of Wuthering Heights are not prisoners of nature, they live in the world and try to change it.
In that painting was a view of a dark, barren land under dark clouds, haggard figures staggered to and fro by the rumble of thunder, bewildered by emotion, not of earthly nature, and they held their breaths. write. A flash of lightning flashed across the lead-colored sky, adding a final touch to the scene, adding a sense of mysterious horror.
The social tragedy of Heathcliff and Catherine is that Catherine realizes the disparity of their social status, but fantasizes that by using the wealth of the Lintons she admires to "help Heathcliff rise", her brother "has no power." question".
This was of course impossible, as was evident from the fact that when Heathcliff reappeared later, Linton suggested that he be seated in the kitchen rather than in the living room. This made a big mistake, and she fell into a snare that she spun with her own hands.
He was rejected by the private ownership society, but still used the struggle methods of the private ownership society to resist. He had no property, but he plundered it and became the owner of the manor; he was mocked, belittled, and reviled by Hindley since he was a child, and was reduced to the status of a servant of a country bumpkin, and a few years later he returned to his own way His son retaliates, and as a result, his victory must equal his own spiritual defeat. The way of revenge must only lead to loneliness and emptiness!
Catherine's lonely soul wandered and cried in the wilderness, waiting for Heathcliff. Finally, Heathcliff passed away. Their souls were no longer alone. They walked in the wilderness and under the rocks in the dark night... is nonsense.
Their unconquerable and unswerving love is also a stubborn resistance to the old era in which they were manipulated by evil forces. Although their resistance is passive and powerless, their love is The author's writing finally overcomes death and reaches the realm of sublimation.
The talented female writer Emily Brontë will forever shine a unique and splendid brilliance in the splendid constellation of British nineteenth-century literature because of her only work!
This timetable is too critical. This book is written out of order, and reading it without clearing your mind will be a complete mess.
---
# Chapter 1
Can you imagine that this is described by a girl who has never been in love?!
However, if the look can convey affection, even a fool can guess that I love her desperately. Later, she understood what I meant, and sent me back with an apocalypse—the sweetest of all imaginable longings. what should I do? I repented in shame—shrinking coldly, like a snail; the more she looked at me, the colder and farther I shrank.
Until at last, the poor innocent child had to doubt her own feelings, and she thought she had guessed wrong and was so perplexed that she persuaded her mother to withdraw from the camp. I have a reputation for being ruthless because of my eccentric behavior; how wrong it is, that only I can understand.
In the whole of England, I do not believe that I can find such a place completely cut off from the hustle and bustle of the world, an ideal paradise for the world-weary.
This "come in" was uttered through gritted teeth, expressing the emotion: "Damn!" Even the door he was leaning against moved without showing sympathy for the promise; I think circumstances dictated my acceptance Such an invitation: I am interested in someone who seems to be more eccentric than me.
"Whistling" is a meaningful inland adjective for the barometric turbulence that this place experiences in stormy weather. Indeed, there must be an air of invigorating purity that circulates here at all times.
At the far end of the house, there were a few dwarf fir trees that were over-sloping, and the thin row of thorns stretched their branches in one direction, as if begging the sun for warmth, and one could guess the power of the north wind.
I would have liked to say a word or two and ask the arrogant owner a brief history of this place, but from the way he stood at the door, it seemed that he wanted me to hurry in or leave, while I was visiting The interior didn't want to increase his impatience before either.
In the large fireplace, I saw no traces of cooking or baking, and no copper pans and tin colanders and the like were glistening on the walls.
I knew intuitively that his indifference was due to a distaste for affectation—to show affection for each other.
In order to kill this moment of silence, I want to rub the bitch. It had just left the brood and was sneaking fiercely behind my legs, grinning and with saliva on its white teeth. My caress caused a long screeching sound from my throat. "You'd better ignore the dog," growled Mr. Heathcliff in the same tone, stomping his foot in a warning. "He's not used to being pampered - he's not kept as a plaything."
The dog, along with the bitch, watched and watched my every move. Not wanting to deal with the canine teeth, I sat still; however, I thought they would not understand silent contempt, and unfortunately, I winked and grimaced at the three dogs.
Heathcliff and his servants climbed the steps of the cellar with irritable languid steps: I don't think they walked a second faster than usual, though the fireside had been biting and barking. chaos.
Thankfully someone from the kitchen trotted up: a sturdy woman in a rolled-up dress, with bare arms and red cheeks, waving a frying pan into our midst—and using that weapon and her tongue quite effectively, Miraculously calmed the storm. When her master came on stage, she was panting like an ocean that was still undulating after the strong wind.
---
# Chapter 2
Her forehead wrinkled, and her red lower lip pouted, as if a child was about to cry.
Standing in front of the fire, looking at me out of the corner of my eye, as if we had some unfinished feud.
However, his manner was casual, almost arrogant, and there was none of the prudence and industriousness of a domestic servant serving his mistress.
There was an air of mocking malice in the beautiful eyes of the little witch.
I said a lot of incoherent, intimidating, vengeful words, in a vicious, King Lear style.
---
# Chapter 3
There they were, like two little kids, kissing and bullshitting the whole hour—that stupid sweet talk that we should be ashamed of.
Ah, how weary I am! How I writhe, yawn, doze, and wake up again! How I pinch myself, poke myself, rub my eyes, stand up, and sit down again.
The terror of the nightmare overwhelmed me, and I tried to withdraw my arm, but the handheld was on, and a very melancholy voice sobbed: "Let me in—let me in!"
Heathcliff stood in the doorway, in his shirt and trousers, holding a candle, the oil dripping down his fingers, as pale as the wall behind him. The first crack of the oak door made him feel like he was electrocuted. But, listening to his irregular breathless breathing, I guess he was trying desperately to refrain from overly strong emotions.
Only the wind and snow blew violently and rapidly, even to where I was standing, and blew out the candles. In this sudden outpouring of grief, there was such anguish to accompany this maddening remark, that my pity for him blinded me to the folly of his manner.
On the other hand, I was disturbed by my own telling of my absurd nightmare, because it was the dream that produced this grief.
As soon as the dawn broke, I seized the opportunity to escape into the free air outside, which was now crisp, quiet, and cold as an invisible block of ice.
I was in my study again, weak as a kitten, barely able to enjoy the fire and the steaming coffee that the servants had prepared to refresh me.
---
# Chapter 4
He appeared to be a melancholy, patient child, perhaps hardened by abuse. He could endure Hindley's fist without blinking or shedding a single tear. I pinched him, and he just took a breath and opened his eyes, as if he accidentally hurt himself, no one can blame him. This resignation made old Earnshaw angry when he found out that his son had abused his so-called poor orphan in this way.
Katie and her brother were grinding me to death, and he was like a lamb with no complaints—though he didn't bother people out of tenacity, not generosity.
As far as I can remember, the child never showed any gratitude in return for his favor. He wasn't rude to his benefactor, he was just casual.
---
# Chapter 5
He was active and healthy, but his energy suddenly disappeared from him. When he could only stay in the corner of the fireplace, he became sadly irritable. The little things upset him, and he was maddened by the suspicion that they were undermining his prestige. Earnshaw was especially annoyed if someone tried to embarrass or bully his darling.
That kind of accommodating can greatly nourish the child's pride and eccentricity. She can impatient all of us more than fifty times a day, and from the time she goes downstairs to the time she goes to bed, she is so mischievous that we do not have a minute of peace.
She was always in high spirits, and her tongue kept moving—singing, laughing, entangled in anyone who didn’t get along with her, what a wild and bad little girl. Having said that, I believe that she is not malicious, because once she really makes you cry, she rarely does not cry with you, and makes you have to calm down and comfort her.
When playing, she especially likes to be a little housewife, doing this and that willfully, and giving orders to her companions. She didn't understand why her father was grumpy and less patient when he was weak than when he was in his prime. His grumpy reproach aroused her desire to be amused and deliberately angered her father. She was most pleased when we scolded her together, and she confronted us with bold, rude air and witty words.
He died peacefully on the fireside chair one night in October. The wind roared around the house and roared in the chimney. It sounded violent and violent, but it was not cold. These two little souls are comforting each other with better thoughts than I can think of: there is no priest in the world who can paint heaven as beautifully as they paint it in their own innocent words.
---
# Chapter 6
She was rather thin, but young, with a good complexion, and her eyes shone like jewels. I did notice that she was short of breath as she went upstairs, shivering at the slightest sudden noise, and sometimes coughing very annoyingly. But I have no idea what these diseases portend.
Running out into the wilderness early in the morning and staying there all day had become one of their main entertainments, and the punishment that followed became a laughable little thing.
Though the curate had left as many chapters as he wanted for Catherine to recite, and though Joseph had beaten Heathcliff to his arm, as long as they got together again, or at least the minute they hatched some naughty plan of revenge, They forget everything. How many times have I seen them messing around with each other day by day, and I have to cry myself, and I dare not say a word, lest I lose the little power I still have over these two unaccompanied little guys.
The whole family went to bed, and I was too anxious to lie down, so I opened my window and stretched out my head to listen. Although it was raining, I decided that as long as they came back, I would ignore the ban and let them in. After a while, I heard footsteps on the road, and the light of a lantern flashed through the gate.
Lying at the other end of the room, screaming as if a witch had stabbed her with red-hot needles.
There was a little spark of life in the dull blue eyes of the Lintons--a faint reflection of her own charming face. I see them all showing a dull admiration.
---
# Chapter 7
She was no longer a little savage without a hat jumping into the house and rushing over to hug us all out of breath, but a very demure person with brown curls from a beautiful little black horse. A feathered beaver skin hat hung down, and a long cloth riding suit was worn. She had to carry the dress with both hands in order to walk in gracefully.
Not to mention his three-month-old suit of mud and dirt, and his thick hair, which he never combed, even his face and hands were covered in black. He saw such a beautiful and refined lady come into the room, not the disheveled one he had expected, and he had to hide behind a high-backed chair.
It was a pleasure to see him in a state of embarrassment, and contentment to see that he would have to appear as a loathsome little rascal.
She had reason to ask the question, because shame and pride cast a double shadow on his face, immobilizing him.
When he had finished, he rushed out of the house, to the delight of the master and the mistress, while Catherine was very disturbed; she could not understand how her words had caused such an outburst of bad temper.
So I am left here alone. I smell the rich aroma of overripe spices, admire the shiny kitchen utensils, the polished clocks adorned with holly leaves, the silver basins lining the plate - they're ready to be poured at dinner Spiced ale. What I appreciate the most is the thing that I take extra care to scrub clean and flawless, the floor that has been washed and swept.
I sang and cried. But after a while, I suddenly thought that it would be more meaningful to make up for his grievances than to cry over these things. Yeah, you have a reason to go to bed with a proud heart and an empty stomach. Just do it with sincerity and don't think she's a stranger in nice clothes.
He is like a doll. You are smaller than him, but I can tell that you are taller and your shoulders are twice as wide as he is, and you can knock him down in the blink of an eye. Even if I knocked him down twenty times, it wouldn't make him less beautiful or make me more beautiful. I wish I had light hair, fair skin, dressed and behaved like him, and had a chance to be as rich as he will be in the future!
He said this without insulting his thoughts. But Heathcliff's violent temper was not prepared to endure the arrogance of a man whom he seemed at that time to hate even as a rival.
She took a bite into her mouth, then put it down again. Her face was flushed and tears were pouring out. She slid the fork to the floor and hurried under the tablecloth to hide her feelings.
You have to develop your ability to think because you don't have to spend your life on silly trivia.
---
# Chapter 8
As for himself, he has become desperate, and his sorrow is the kind that cannot be cried. He does not cry or pray. He cursed and scorned, hated God and man, and lived a life of wanton debauchery. The servants could not stand his tyranny and soon all left.
At that time, the child seemed to be possessed by the devil. He watched with schadenfreude as Hindley was hopelessly degraded, and the savage stubbornness and brutality became more and more conspicuous day by day.
She really turned into an arrogant and willful stunner! Since her childhood has passed, I admit that I dislike her; I have often annoyed her in order to get rid of her arrogant temper, although she has never taken a disgusting attitude toward me. She maintains a queer reluctance to part with the things she used to love.
She was reluctant to show her rude side, and there she was met with gentle manners, so she knew that being rude was shameful.
In the place where she heard Heathcliff referred to as "a nasty little rascal" and "worse than a beast", she took care not to behave like him. But at home, she has no intention to use the kind of politeness that will only be laughed at, and she has no intention of restraining her unruly nature because restraint will not bring her prestige and praise.
And when Linton expressed disgust at Heathcliff and was incompatible, she did not dare to treat his feelings indifferently, as if her companion had nothing to do with her. I always laugh at her confusion and unspeakable troubles.
The education he had received in his early years had by then ceased to work for him, and the continual drudgery, waking up early and going to bed late, had extinguished the curiosity he had once had in the pursuit of knowledge, and any interest in books or learning. favorite.
After a long effort to maintain an equal position with Catherine in her studies, she finally gave up with silent and bitter regret. When he found that he had to, and inevitably, sank below his previous level, no one could persuade him to take a step up.
Then the outward appearance of a man echoes the depravity of the heart: he acquires a languid manner of walking and an unseemly air; his natural taciturn temperament enlarges into an almost demented, inhumane Ill temper.
It can be seen that her two friends have very different temperaments. It's as if you've just finished watching a desolate, hilly coal-producing region and then switched to a beautiful, fertile valley.
He has a pleasant low voice and speaks like you do. It's not so harsh, but softer than what we're talking about here.
She stomped her feet, hesitated for a while, and then, unable to resist her stubborn emotion, slapped me so hard that my eyes were filled with tears.
The insulted guest went to where he had put his hat, pale and quivering.
Has broken the stronghold of the timidity of the young, and made them abandon the pretense of friendship and admit that they are lovers
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# Chapter 9
Girls are always self-righteous and never discuss. She kept wandering back and forth from the gate to the door of the house, she was so excited that she refused to rest for a moment, and finally stood still by a wall near the road.
There, against my advice, against the rumble of thunder and the rain that began to crash all around her, she just stood there, shouting now and then, listening again, and bursting into tears.
There is a sense of horror at encountering his beastly affection or madman's rage because in the former case, he has a chance of being squeezed or kissed to death, and in the other, He had another chance of being thrown into a fire or slammed into a wall.
That look could express that profound agony more clearly than words, for he had become an instrument to thwart his own vengeance.
I wonder why his mother didn't get up from her grave and see how you treated him. You are worse than a heretic - treat your own flesh like this!
He wanted to touch the child. As soon as the child found out that he was following me, he immediately vented his horror and burst into tears. But as soon as his father's fingers touched him, he screamed again, higher than before, and struggled as if he were about to scare the wind.
I love the ground under his feet, the sky above his head, everything he touches, and every word he utters. I love all of his expressions and all of his movements and the whole of him.
She sat down next to me again, her air becoming more sad and serious, her clasped hands shaking.
These dreams passed through me like wine flowing in the water, changing the color of my heart.
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are one and the same; and Linton's soul, like moonlight and lightning, or frost and fire, is quite different.
She kept wandering back and forth from the gate to the door of the house, she was so excited that she refused to rest for a moment, and finally stood still by a wall near the road. There, against my advice, against the rumble of thunder and the rain that began to crash all around her, she just stood there, shouting now and then, listening again, and bursting into tears.
The storm rumbled violently on the top of the villa. There was a gust of wind and a thunderstorm. I don't know if it was the wind or the thunder that knocked down a tree in the corner of the house. She was soaking wet from her stubborn refusal to take shelter from the rain.
The morning air was fresh and cool, I opened the window, and the house was immediately filled with the sweet aroma from the garden.
---
# Chapter 10
She repaid him with so many sweet words and made the whole family feel like heaven for several days, and both the master and the servant benefited greatly from this endless sunshine.
He also retains much of the reticence that had been evident in his childhood, and that reticence could just suppress all the astonishing manifestations of emotion.
Expressed a sudden and irresistible affection. She was then a charming young lady of eighteen, still boyish in manner, though of keen intellect.
Please don't delusionally think that he has kindness and love deeply buried under a grim exterior! He was not a rough diamond—a pearly mussel among the country folks—but a vicious, ruthless, wolf-like man.
I just saw him smiling - almost grinning - and sinking into sinister meditation.
His visit was a constant nightmare to me and, I guess, my master. He's living in the villa became inexplicable oppression. I felt that God had left the lost lamb there and let it roam, while a beast lingered secretly between the sheep and the pen, waiting for an opportunity to jump up and destroy it.
---
# Chapter 11
He swears like that with sophistication, and a vicious tone, and twists his baby face into startling wickedness. You would believe that this look makes me angry and makes me more miserable. I almost cried.
Your presence is a moral poison that can defile the most virtuous.
After constantly pampering the weak nature of this one and the wicked nature of that one, in the end, I was rewarded with two kinds of blind ingratitude, absurdly stupid! They were so bewildered that it bordered on absurdity.
I have been very cautious, lest I irritate myself. You must explain the dangers of giving up this strategy, and remind him of my irritability, which will drive him mad if he gets into trouble. I hope you can remove that cold, unfeeling look from your face and show me a little concern.
Your cold blood cannot heat up, and your blood vessels are full of ice water. But my blood is boiling. Seeing your cold and inhuman appearance makes my blood boil.
---
# Chapter 12
Her brother buried himself in the piles of books he had never opened - I guess he was desperately hoping that Catherine would regret her actions and would automatically ask for forgiveness and reconciliation - and she was tenacious. He went on a hunger strike, probably thinking that Edgar couldn't swallow at every meal when he saw her absent, and it was only because he was proud that he didn't come and kneel at her feet.
I was still busy with my housework, convinced that there was only one sober soul within the walls of the Grange, and that soul was in my body. I do not overuse consolation with my lady, nor counsel with my mistress; nor do I pay much attention to my master's sighs. Despite her ghostly face and eccentric exaggeration, I kept my outward calm.
She tossed and turned, feverish, coma, and even crazy, biting the pillow with her teeth, and then she stood up hot and asked me to open the window. Her mind had wandered to other associations. I took her hand and told her to calm down, for she was staring at the mirror as the tremors made her cramp.
She shuddered and panicked, and held me tight, but the terror gradually disappeared from her face; the paleness disappeared, and a blush of shame appeared. And the wind howled among the fir trees outside the window. Let me feel the wind - it's blowing straight from the wilderness - let me take a breath!
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# Chapter 13
They remind me of gentle warm winds, warm sunshine, and melting snow.
He did not hesitate to give her the tenderest caress and to please her with the most affectionate words. However, she stared blankly at the flower, tears gathering on her eyelashes and running down her cheeks.
Is Heathcliff human? If so, is he crazy? If not, is he a devil? Staring like a hungry wolf.
My companion was still pacing back and forth, his head down to his chest, and he was completely silent, save for the occasional groan or a bitter sigh.
He was clearly on the verge of madness, glaring at me defiantly as he drooled into the jar.
---
# Chapter 14
Think of me as a legendary hero hoping for endless pampering from my heroic devotion. I just can't think of her as a rational person who is so stubbornly holding onto an absurd view of my character and acting on the false impressions she has nurtured.
She had an inner admiration for that cruelty! Yeah, isn't it absurd for that poor, servile, nasty bitch - pure idiot - to dream that I could love her! I tested what she could bear, and she always crawled back shyly and flatteringly.
# Chapter 15
A book was placed on the windowsill in front of her, open, and the pages were swaying in the almost imperceptible wind.
She understood his purpose, and when she was in a better mood, she gently listened to his manipulations; only from time to time a weary sigh was pressed down to show that it was useless, and at last, he was stopped with the most miserable smiles and kisses.
The murmur of water from the swollen stream in the valley was very pleasant. This beautiful sound replaces the rustling of summer leaves that has not yet come.
But she had that dazed, elusive air I mentioned before, which showed that her ears or eyes could hardly discern anything from the outside world.
This was the first sentence he uttered, and the tone didn't try to hide his desperation. Now he's staring at her so eagerly, his gaze is so intense, I think he'll cry. But the eyes were burning with excruciating pain: not tears.
To a dispassionate onlooker, the two formed a bizarre and terrifying picture.
On her present face, those white cheeks, bloodless lips, and twinkling eyes all showed wild revenge.
Did you expect all these words to be etched into my memory, and to bite me deeper forever after you left me?
When you rest, I am tormented in hell, isn't that enough to satisfy your vicious selfishness?
After a moment of silence and a long stare, she spoke again; with a tone of indignant disappointment.
He just gritted his teeth at me, foamed like a mad dog, and hugged her tightly with a look of greedy jealousy.
He tried to get up, to let go of her fingers - but she held her tightly, gasping for breath: a frenzied determination on her face.
---
# Chapter 16
You say I hurt you - then, pester me! The victim was haunting his murderer. I believe - I know that ghosts roam the world. Then follow me forever - in any form - drive me crazy! Just don't leave me in this abyss, I can't find you here!
In the early morning, quietly through the curtains of this silent room, a pleasant and soft light shone on the couch and the person sleeping on it. But his face was quiet after extreme grief, and she was truly quiet. Her features are soft, with closed eyelids and a smiling expression on her lips. I, too, was struck by the infinite serenity of her sleep: never was my state of mind more sacred than when I gazed upon the carefree face of this holy rest.
Life is infinitely continuous, love is infinitely harmonious, and joy is infinitely full. One may wonder whether she deserves a peaceful resting place at the end of her life after a life of willfulness and impatience. His hair was wet with the dew that gathered on the budding branches, and it was dripping all around him.
He rammed his head against the gnarled trunk; raised his eyes, and roared, not like a man, but like a beast stabbed to death by knives and spears. I saw several bloodstains on the bark, and blood on his hands and forehead; presumably what I had seen with my own eyes had been repeated several times during the night.
Before the funeral, her coffin had not been closed, sprinkled with flowers and fragrant leaves, and parked in the hall. Linton was there day and night, a sleepless defender.
Impressed by his tenacity, I gave him a chance to say a final goodbye to the faded face of his idol. He didn't miss the opportunity, cautiously and quickly.
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# Chapter 17
It was hard to imagine that it had been summer for three weeks: primroses and crocuses hid under the snow, larks were silent, and the shoots of young trees were blackened. How bleak, cold, and gloomy the morning went by slowly!
The blouse was made of thin silk, which was wetted against her body, and only thin slippers protected her feet; in addition, there was a deep scar under one ear, and it was only because of the cold weather that the excessive bleeding was stopped. , a white face that has been caught and beaten, a body that is too tired to support.
He had been made by me to have thrown away the diabolical caution he boasted about and was about to commit a violent murder. I experienced a thrill at the thought of being able to provoke him; it awakened my instinct to preserve myself.
He got up, but he was suicidal, as unfit for the church as for dancing; he didn't go anywhere, and sat by the fire, swallowing big glasses of soju or brandy go down.
It was snowing heavily outside, and my thoughts kept turning to the cemetery and the newly built grave, and it seemed miserable to go upstairs! Just as my eyes darted to lift from the page in front of me, the melancholy vision immediately took its place.
There was no sound inside or outside the house, only the whimpering wind shaking the windows from time to time, the soft cracking of coal, and the sound of candle scissors when cutting the long heart of the candle. At last, the gloomy silence was broken by the sound of the kitchen latch.
His forehead, which I once thought was manly, now I felt it had grown very vicious and was covered with a thick cloud; his monstrous eyes were dying from lack of sleep, and perhaps from weeping, For the eyelashes were wet; his lips lost their wicked sneer, but were sealed with an expression of indescribable sadness.
When he was weak was the only time when I could taste the joy of retribution.
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# Chapter 18
He stared at her with great curiosity and astonishment; she was eloquent, talking and asking, but he understood very little.
He doesn't have the cowardly sensibility that invites sadism. Heathcliff used his malice to bring him up into a brutish man who was never taught to read or write; never rebuked for any bad habit which did not disturb his master; never to be led. He took a step toward virtue or never had a single instruction against vice.
In the Grange, everyone always called her "love", "baby", "queen", and "angel", and now she was so horribly insulted by a stranger!
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# Chapter 19
Looking regretfully at my companion's pale features and slender bones, and his large, lifeless eyes--his mother's eyes, only, with a morbid restlessness that occasionally lights them up, They didn't have any trace of her gleaming gleam at all.
The result must be this one swearing, and the other crying and breaking up.
She kissed him furiously. They stared at each other, amazed by the changes time had made in each other's appearance.
Linton's air and movements were very inactive, and he was very thin in appearance, but these defects were moderated by his demeanor with refinement.
He could never be freed from his brutish ignorance. I held him tighter than his rascal father, and degraded him less; for he was proud of his savagery. I taught him to laugh at everything other than bestiality as stupid and weak.
My son is worthless. But I have the ability to try to cheer up this kind of shit. His son had a first-class talent, but was wasted, and became worse than useless.
His face was red with anger and shame.
As soon as the boy discussed Hareton's faults and faults, and recounted his anecdotes and anecdotes, his spirit came, and the little girl loved to hear his rude words, and did not think about the maliciousness shown.
A grumpy little patient who was barely struggling in his teenage years.
She complained, an unhappy look, and she kept rubbing her eyes, she looked absolutely drowsy.
He wants everything to be in quiet ecstasy; I want everything to sparkle and dance in radiant joy.
Every breath blowing from the mountain is so full of life, as if no matter who inhales it, even the dying will be resurrected.
---
# Chapter 20
I dreamed that I had my last sleep leaning against the sleeper, my heart stopped beating, and my face was icy against hers. You know I went mad after her death; every day, every day, I'm forever praying for her soul to come back to me! I seem to feel that the sighing heating has replaced the wind with rain and snow.
I know that there are no living things of flesh and blood around me; but, just as one senses a living being approaching in the dark, one cannot discern what it is. Or even rest her lovely head on my pillow like she did when she was a kid. And I had to open my eyes and see. So I open and close my eyes a hundred times in one night - always disappointed!
Like an icicle, cold and unattainable like a princess. I got up and gave her the armchair I was sitting in. No, she turned her nose up at my hospitality.
I would not like these books to be corrupted and blasphemed in his mouth! Besides, he just selected some of my favorites to recite from all the books, as if he was deliberately messing up.
His chest rose and fell silently: he was struggling with a severe sense of humiliation and anger, and it was not easy to suppress. I got up and, in a noble thought to relieve his embarrassment stood at the door and looked out at the scenery. She opened a book that was apparently flipped over a lot, read a paragraph in a beginner's lingering tone, then laughed, and threw the book away. "Listen," she said defiantly and began to recite an old ballad in the same tone.
The shame he felt for her contempt, and the desire to gain her approval, was his original motivation for striving for improvement.
My nostrils helped me discover another thing, a scent of violets and vanilla wafting into the air from those gracious fruit groves. Spring came and shut her up in small confines, which made her very angry.
"I have nothing to do with you, your stinky air, and your tricks of teasing!" he replied, "I'd rather go to hell with my body and soul than look at you again." His face was gloomy Furious like a cloud of thunder and lightning, he firmly clenched his fists and stared at the ground.
Biting her lip, she tried to hum an odd tune to hide her growing tendency to cry.
I linger in front of these three tombstones under that mild sky! Watching moths flutter among the heather and orchid, and listening to the soft wind blowing among the grass, I wonder who could have imagined the restless sleep of those who sleep beneath that peaceful land.
It was so annoying to lie there, with a hundred unfounded worries plaguing my mind.
I couldn't think he was dead: but his face and throat were washed with rain; the sheets were dripping, and he didn't move. The window banged back and forth, wiping a hand on the sill; there was no blood coming out of the broken skin, I touched it with my finger, and I could no longer doubt it; he was dead and stiff! I wanted to kill that horrible, living, ecstatic stare before anyone else came to see it.
The eyes couldn't close; they seemed like an attempt to laugh at me; so did his parted lips and sharp white teeth! I felt timid again. This horrific event made me dizzy; I inevitably recalled the old days with a repressed sadness. He sat beside the corpse all night, weeping sincerely. He took his hand and kissed the sarcastic, cruel face that no one dared to look at.
He mourned him with the intense grief that flowed naturally from a generous heart, though that heart was as tough as steel. I linger in front of these three tombstones under that mild sky! Watching moths flutter among the heather and orchid, and listening to the soft wind blowing among the grass, I wonder who could have imagined the restless sleep of those who sleep beneath that peaceful land...