in an expression of unspeakable sadness. Had it been another, I would have covered my face in the presence of such grief. In his case, I was gratified; and, ignoble as it seems to insult a fallen enemy, I couldn't miss this chance of sticking in a dart: his weakness was the only time when I could taste the delight of paying wrong for wrong.

`Fie, fie, miss!' I interrupted. `One might suppose you had never opened a Bible in your life. If God afflict your enemies, surely that ought to suffice you. It is both mean and presumptuous to add your torture to His!'

`In general I'll allow that it would be, Ellen,' she continued; `but what misery laid on Heathcliff could content me, unless I have a hand in it? I'd rather he suffered less, if I might cause his sufferings and he might know that I was the cause. O, I owe him so much. On only one condition can I hope to forgive him. It is, if I may take an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; for every wrench of agony return a wrench: reduce him to my level. As he was the first to injure, make him the first to implore pardon; and then--why then, Ellen, I might show you some generosity. But it is utterly impossible I can ever be revenged, and therefore I cannot forgive him. Hindley wanted some water, and I handed him a glass, and asked him how he was.

``Not as ill as I wish,'' he replied. ``But leaving out my arm, every inch of me is as sore as if I had been fighting with a legion of imps!''

`"Yes, no wonder,'' was my next remark. ``Catherine used to boast that she stood between you and bodily harm: she meant that certain persons would not hurt you for fear of offending her. It's well people don't really rise from their grave, or, last night, she might have witnessed a repulsive scene! Are not you bruised and cut over your chest and shoulders?''

``I can't say,'' he answered: ``but what do you mean? Did he dare to strike me when I was down?"

"He trampled on you and kicked you, and dashed you on the ground,'' I whispered. ``And his mouth watered to tear you with his teeth; because he's only half a man--not so much.''

`Mr Earnshaw looked up, like me, to the countenance of our mutual foe; who, absorbed in his anguish, seemed insensible to anything around him: the longer he stood, the plainer his reflections revealed their blackness through his features.

`"Oh, if God would but give me strength to strangle him in my last agony, I'd go to hell with joy,'' groaned the impatient man, writhing to rise, and sinking back in despair, convinced of his inadequacy for the struggle.

`"Nay, it's enough that he has murdered one of you,'' I observed aloud. ``At the Grange, everyone knows your sister would have been living now, had it not been for Mr Heathcliff. After all, it is preferable to be hated than loved by him. When I recollect how happy we were--how happy Catherine was before he came--I'm fit to curse the day.''

`Most likely, Heathcliff noticed more the truth of what was said, than the spirit of the person who said it. His attention was roused, I saw, for his eyes rained down tears among the ashes, and he drew his breath in suffocating sighs. I stared full at him, and laughed scornfully. The clouded windows of hell flashed a moment towards me; the fiend which usually looked out, however, was so dimmed and drowned that I did not fear to hazard another sound of derision.

``Get up, and begone out of my sight,'' said the mourner.

`I guessed he uttered those words, at least, though his voice was hardly intelligible.