I observed several splashes of blood about the bark of the tree, and his hand and forehead were both stained; probably the scene I witnessed was a repetition of others acted during the night.
It hardly moved my compassion--it appalled me: still, I felt reluctant to quit him so.

But the moment he recollected himself enough to notice me watching, he thundered a command for me to go, and I obeyed.

He was beyond my skill to quiet or console! Mrs.Linton's funeral was appointed to take place on the Friday following her decease; and till then her coffin remained uncovered, and strewn with flowers and scented leaves, in the great drawing-room.

Linton spent his days and nights there, a sleepless guardian; and--a circumstance concealed from all but me--Heathcliff spent his nights, at least, outside, equally a stranger to repose.

I held no communication with him: still, I was conscious of his design to enter, if he could; and on the Tuesday, a little after dark, when my master, from sheer fatigue, had been compelled to retire a couple of hours, I went and opened one of the windows; moved by his perseverance to give him a chance of bestowing on the faded image of his idol one final adieu.