XIII

finding nobody who could or would be my ally against Heathcliff! I had sought shelter at Wuthering Heights, almost gladly, because I was secured by that arrangement from living alone with him; but he knew the people we were coming amongst, and he did not fear their intermeddling. I sat and thought a doleful time: the clock struck eight, and nine, and still my companion paced to and fro, his head bent on his breast, and perfectly silent, unless a groan or a bitter ejaculation forced itself out at intervals. I listened to detect a woman’s voice in the house, and filled the interim with wild regrets and dismal anticipations, which, at last, spoke audibly in irrepressible sighing and weeping. I was not aware how openly I grieved, till Earnshaw halted opposite, in his measured walk, and gave me a stare of newly-awakened surprise. Taking advantage of his recovered attention, I exclaimed⁠—“I’m tired with my journey, and I want to go to bed! Where is the maidservant? Direct me to her, as she won’t come to me!” “We have none,” he answered; “you must wait on yourself!” “Where must I sleep, then?” I sobbed; I was beyond regarding self-respect, weighed down by fatigue and wretchedness. “Joseph will show you Heathcliff’s chamber,” said he; “open that door⁠—he’s in there.” I was going to obey, but he suddenly arrested me, and added in the strangest tone⁠—“Be so good as to turn your lock, and draw your bolt⁠—don’t omit it!”