`Well, well,' I cried, `after all, we needn't trouble ourselves; for listen, miss, and mind, I'll keep my word,--if you attempt going to Wuthering Heights again, with or without me, I shall inform Mr Linton, and, unless he allow it, the intimacy with your cousin must not be revived.'

`It has been revived,' muttered Cathy sulkily. `Must not be continued, then,' I said.

`We'll see,' was her reply, and she set off at a gallop, leaving me to toil in the rear.

We both reached home before our dinner time; my master supposed we had been wandering through the park, and therefore he demanded no explanation of our absence. As soon as I entered, I hastened to change my soaked shoes and stockings; but sitting such a while at the Heights had done the mischief. On the succeeding morning I was laid up, and during three weeks I remained incapacitated for attending to my duties: a calamity never experienced prior to that period, and never, I am thankful to say, since.

My little mistress behaved like an angel, in coming to wait on me, and cheer my solitude: the confinement brought me exceedingly low. It is wearisome, to a stirring active body: but few have slighter reasons for complaint than I had. The moment Catherine left Mr Linton's room, she appeared at my bedside. Her day was divided between us; no amusement usurped a minute: she neglected her meals, her studies, and her play; and she was the fondest nurse that ever watched. She must have had a warm heart, when she loved her father so, to give so much to me. I said her days were divided between us; but the master retired early, and I generally needed nothing after six o'clock; thus the evening was her own. Poor thing! I never considered what she did with herself after tea. And though frequently, when she looked in to bid me good night, I remarked a fresh colour in her cheeks and a pinkness over her slender fingers; instead of fancying the hue borrowed from a cold ride across the moors, I laid it to the charge of a hot fire in the library.

夜雨引来了一个雾气蒙蒙的早晨——下着霜，又飘着细雨——临时的小溪横穿过我们的小径——从高地上潺潺而下。我的脚全湿了；我心境不好，无精打采，这种情绪恰好适于作这类最不愉快的事。我们从厨房过道进去，到达了农舍，先确定一下希刺克厉夫先生究竟是否真的不在家：因为我对于他自己肯定的话是不大相信的。

约瑟夫仿佛是独自坐在一种极乐世界里，在一炉熊熊燃烧的火边；他旁边的桌子上有一杯麦酒，里面竖着大块的烤麦饼；他嘴里衔着他那黑而短的烟斗。凯瑟琳跑到炉边取暖。我就问主人在不在家？我问的话很久没有得到回答，我以为这老人已经有点聋了，就更大声地又说一遍。

“没——有！”他咆哮着，这声音还不如说是从他鼻子里叫出来的。“没——有！你从哪儿来，就滚回哪儿去。”

“约瑟夫！”从里屋传来的一个抱怨的声音跟我同时叫起来。“我要叫你几次呀？现在只剩一点红灰烬啦。约瑟夫！马上来。”

他挺带劲地喷烟，对着炉栅呆望着，表明他根本听不见这个请求。管家和哈里顿都看不见影儿；大概一个有事出去了，另一个忙他的事儿。我们听出是林惇的声音，便进去了。

“啊，我希望你死在阁楼上，活活饿死！”这孩子说，听见我们走进来，误以为是他那怠慢的听差来了呢。

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