On the fifth afternoon of my imprisonment, a different step approached the door—lighter and quicker than Hareton’s. Zillah entered the room, dressed in her Sunday best, looking startled to see me. She explained that the entire village of Gimmerton was gossiping about our disappearance. Heathcliff had spread a rumor that we had been lost in the Blackhorse marsh, and that he had only just found me and brought me back to recover my senses.
"Your master is a complete scoundrel!" I cried. "But he will answer for his crimes. Tell me, is Mr. Edgar still alive?"
"He’s not dead yet," Zillah replied, trying to calm me. "Doctor Kenneth thinks he may last another day. I met him on the road just now."
Without another word, I grabbed my things and rushed downstairs. The house was filled with afternoon sunshine and the front door stood wide open, but the rooms seemed empty. Then, a slight cough from the fireside caught my attention. Linton was lying on the bench, lazily sucking on a piece of candy.
"Where is Miss Catherine?" I demanded sternly.
"She’s upstairs," he replied with apathetic indifference. "She isn’t allowed to leave. We won't let her."
"You little idiot!" I exclaimed. "Tell me which room she is in immediately, or you’ll regret it."
Linton didn't look concerned. "My father said I shouldn't be soft with her. She’s my wife now, and he says she only wants me to die so she can have my money. Well, she won’t have it! She can cry as much as she likes, but she’s never going home."
I looked at him with pure disgust. "Have you forgotten how kind she was to you? She risked the winter cold and snow just to bring you books and sing to you. And now you believe your father’s lies? You are a heartless, selfish boy."
"I can't stay with her," he grumbled. "She cries all night. I even called my father once to make her stop, and he threatened to strangle her if she wasn't quiet. He’s in the courtyard now, talking to the doctor. I’m glad my uncle is dying; I’ll be the master of the Grange then. Catherine tried to bribe me with her books and her pony to let her out, but my father says everything she owns is already mine."
He went on to describe, with a sickening lack of empathy, how Heathcliff had discovered a golden locket Catherine wore. It contained portraits of her mother and father. Heathcliff had snatched it, crushed Edgar’s picture under his boot, and struck Catherine so hard that her mouth filled with blood.
Realizing I could expect no help from this wretched creature, I decided to hurry to the Grange and bring a rescue party. When I arrived, the servants were overjoyed to see me. I went straight to my master’s room and was heartbroken by the change in him. He looked incredibly frail, a mere image of sadness awaiting the end.
"Catherine is coming, dear master," I whispered, touching his cold hand. "She is alive and well, and she will be here tonight."
Edgar gasped and tried to rise, but he was too weak and fainted. When he regained consciousness, I told him a softened version of our detention at the Heights. He realized Heathcliff’s plan was to seize his property through Linton, and he immediately decided to change his will. He wanted to place Catherine’s fortune in the hands of trustees so that Heathcliff could never touch it.
I sent a servant to fetch Mr. Green, the lawyer, and four other men to rescue Catherine by force. However, the lawyer was nowhere to be found, and the men returned empty-handed, claiming Heathcliff had refused to let them see Catherine because she was "too ill to move." I was furious at their cowardice and resolved to go myself at daybreak to storm the house.
Fortunately, it wasn't necessary. At three o'clock that morning, I heard a knock at the door. It wasn't the lawyer, but Catherine herself. She collapsed into my arms, sobbing, "Ellen, is papa still alive?"
"Yes, thank God!" I cried. I quickly washed her pale, exhausted face and told her she must pretend to be happy with Linton for her father’s sake. She understood the necessity of the lie and promised not to complain.
I couldn't bear to watch their meeting, so I waited outside the door. When I finally entered, the room was silent. Catherine’s despair was as quiet as her father’s joy. Edgar watched her with eyes full of peace and ecstasy.
"I am going to her," he whispered, thinking of his late wife. "And you, darling child, shall join us one day."
He died blissfully, without a struggle, his gaze fixed on his daughter until his pulse simply stopped. Catherine sat by his bedside, dry-eyed and motionless, until noon the next day, when I finally forced her to rest.
It was lucky I did, for the lawyer, Mr. Green, finally arrived at dinner-time. It turned out he had sold himself to Heathcliff, which explained his long delay. He immediately began giving orders as if he owned the Grange. He tried to dismiss all the servants and even attempted to change the burial plans, but Edgar’s will was too strong to be ignored.
Later, Catherine told me how she had escaped. Her misery had finally moved even Linton to help her. While Heathcliff was busy, Linton had stolen the key and unlocked her door. She had climbed out of her mother’s old window and used a fir tree to reach the ground, running through the night to reach her father before he passed away. She was now Mrs. Linton Heathcliff, but for one final night, she had been home.