Well, it is--swarming with ghosts and goblins! You have reason in shutting it up, I assure you.

No one will thank you for a doze in such a den!' 'What do you mean ?' asked Heathcliff, 'and what are you doing?
Lie down and finish out the night, since you _are_ here; but, for heaven's sake! don't repeat that horrid noise: nothing could excuse it, unless you were having your throat cut!' 'If the little fiend had got in at the window, she probably would have strangled me!' I returned.

'I'm not going to endure the persecutions of your hospitable ancestors again.

Was not the Reverend Jabez Branderham akin to you on the mother's side?
And that minx, Catherine Linton, or Earnshaw, or however she was called--she must have been a changeling--wicked little soul! She told me she had been walking the earth these twenty years: a just punishment for her mortal transgressions, I've no doubt!' Scarcely were these words uttered when I recollected the association of Heathcliff's with Catherine's name in the book, which had completely slipped from my memory, till thus awakened.

I blushed at my inconsideration: but, without showing further consciousness of the offence, I hastened to add--'The truth is, sir, I passed the first part of the night in--' Here I stopped afresh--I was about to say 'perusing those old volumes,' then it would have revealed my knowledge of their written, as well as their printed, contents; so, correcting myself, I went on--'in spelling over the name scratched on that window-ledge.