Грозовой перевал / Wuthering Heights

I seemed to keep them closed above a quarter of an hour; yet, the instant I listened again, there was the doleful cry moaning on! �Begone!’ I shouted. �I’ll never let you in, not if you beg for twenty years.’ �It is twenty years,’ mourned the voice: �twenty years. I’ve been a waif for twenty years!’ Thereat began a feeble scratching outside, and the pile of books moved as if thrust forward. I tried to jump up; but could not stir a limb; and so yelled aloud, in a frenzy of fright. To my confusion, I discovered the yell was not ideal: hasty footsteps approached my chamber door; somebody pushed it open, with a vigorous hand, and a light glimmered through the squares at the top of the bed.

I sat shuddering yet, and wiping the perspiration from my forehead: the intruder appeared to hesitate, and muttered to himself. At last, he said, in a half-whisper, plainly not expecting an answer, �Is any one here?’ I considered it best to confess my presence; for I knew Heathcliff’s accents, and feared he might search further, if I kept quiet. With this intention, I turned and opened the panels. I shall not soon forget the effect my action produced.

Heathcliff stood near the entrance, in his shirt and trousers; with a candle dripping over his fingers, and his face as white as the wall behind him. The first creak of the oak startled him like an electric shock: the light leaped from his hold to a distance of some feet, and his agitation was so extreme, that he could hardly pick it up.

�It is only your guest, sir,’ I called out, desirous to spare him the humiliation of exposing his cowardice further. �I had the misfortune to scream in my sleep, owing to a frightful nightmare. I’m sorry I disturbed you.’

�Oh, God confound you, Mr. Lockwood! I wish you were at the – ’ commenced my host, setting the candle on a chair, because he found it impossible to hold it steady. �And who showed you up into this room?’ he continued, crushing his nails into his palms, and grinding his teeth to subdue the maxillary convulsions.

�Who was it? I’ve a good mind to turn them out of the house this moment.’

�It was your servant Zillah,’ I replied, flinging myself on to the floor, and rapidly resuming my garments. �I should not care if you did, Mr. Heathcliff; she richly deserves it. I suppose that she wanted to get another proof that the place was haunted, at my expense.