That night, while a storm rattled over the heights in full fury, Heathcliff disappeared. Catherine suffered uncontrollable grief, and became dangerously ill. When she was convalescent she went to Thrushcross Grange. But Edgar Linton, when he married her, three years subsequent to his father's death, and brought her here to the Grange, was the happiest man alive. I accompanied her, leaving little Hareton, who was now nearly five years old, and had just begun to learn his letters.
On a mellow evening in September, I was coming from the garden with a basket of apples I had been gathering, when, as I approached the kitchen door, I heard a voice say, "Nelly, is that you?"
Something stirred in the porch, and, moving nearer, I saw a tall man, dressed in dark clothes, with dark hair and face.
"What," I cried, "you come back?"
"Yes, Nelly. You needn't be so disturbed. I want one word with your mistress."
I went in, and explained to Mr. Edgar and Catherine who was waiting below.
"Oh, Edgar darling," she panted, flinging her arms round his neck, "Heathcliff's come back--he is!"
"Well, well," he said, "don't strangle me for that. There's no need to be frantic. Try to be glad without being absurd!"
When Heathcliff came in, she seized his hands and laughed like one beside herself.
It seemed that he was staying at Wuthering Heights, invited by Mr. Earnshaw! When I heard this I had a presentiment that he had better have remained away.