The evening after the funeral, Catherine and I sat together in the library. We were lost in a melancholy silence, occasionally venturing guesses about our uncertain future. We had just agreed that the best possible outcome would be for Catherine to remain at the Grange, perhaps with Linton joining her there and myself staying on as housekeeper. It seemed like a dream too good to be true, yet I was beginning to feel a flicker of hope at the prospect of keeping my home and my beloved young mistress.
Suddenly, a servant rushed in to warn us that "that devil Heathcliff" was approaching. Before we could even consider locking the door, he had already entered. He didn't bother to knock or announce himself; he simply took advantage of his new status as master and walked straight in.
The library was the very same room where he had been received as a guest eighteen years earlier. The same autumn moon shone through the window, illuminating the portraits of Catherine’s parents on the wall. Heathcliff had changed very little. His dark face was perhaps a bit more composed and his frame slightly heavier, but he remained the same formidable figure. Catherine rose instinctively, looking as if she wanted to bolt from the room.
"Stop!" he commanded, grabbing her arm. "No more running away. I’ve come to take you home. I expect you to be a dutiful daughter and not encourage my son to be disobedient. I wasn't sure how to punish him for helping you escape—he is so fragile that a mere pinch would destroy him—but you will see from his face that he has learned his lesson."
He explained with cold satisfaction how he had sat in a room alone with Linton for two hours, never even touching him, but letting his mere presence terrify the boy. "Now, he shrieks in the night if I am even nearby," Heathcliff remarked. "He is your concern now; I am happy to hand over all responsibility for him to you."
"Why not let Catherine stay here?" I pleaded. "Send Linton to join her. Since you hate them both, you wouldn’t miss them. They would only be a burden to your cold heart."
"I am looking for a tenant for the Grange," he answered dismissively. "Besides, this girl owes me her service in exchange for her bread. I have no intention of letting her live in luxury once Linton is gone. Now, get ready, and don’t make me force you."
"I will go," Catherine said defiantly. "Linton is all I have left to love. Even though you have tried to make us hate each other, you have failed. I am not afraid of you, and you won't be able to hurt him while I am there."
Heathcliff laughed at her bravery. "You are a bold champion, but I don't need to hurt him to make you suffer. His own miserable nature will do that for me. He is bitter about your escape and the punishment it brought him. Don't expect any gratitude for your devotion."
"I know he has a bad nature," Catherine replied with a touch of pity. "He is your son, after all. But I have the heart to forgive him. Mr. Heathcliff, you have nobody to love you. No matter how much you make us suffer, we will always know that your cruelty comes from your own greater misery. You are lonely and envious, and nobody will cry for you when you die!"
Catherine spoke with a sense of grim triumph. Heathcliff’s face darkened. "You’ll be sorry for those words soon enough. Now, go and get your things!"
As she left the room, I tried one last time to ask if I could accompany her as a servant, but Heathcliff silenced me. He turned his attention to the portrait of the elder Catherine.
"I shall have that moved to the Heights," he muttered. Then, turning to the fire, he shared a chilling secret. "I’ll tell you what I did yesterday! I convinced the sexton, who was digging Edgar’s grave, to uncover her coffin. I opened it. Her face is still her own! I struck one side of the coffin loose and covered it back up. I’ve bribed the sexton to do the same to mine when I am buried there. By the time our dust mingles, no one will be able to tell us apart."
"That is a wicked thing to do!" I exclaimed, horrified. "Are you not ashamed to disturb the dead?"
"I disturbed no one," he replied, his voice strangely calm. "In fact, it gave me the only peace I’ve known in eighteen years. She has haunted me every single night since she died. But last night, I finally felt tranquil. I dreamt I was sleeping the final sleep beside her, my heart stopped and my cheek frozen against hers."
"And if her body had been nothing but dust?" I asked.
"I would have dreamt of dissolving into the earth with her," he answered. "You know how desperate I was after she died. Every day I prayed for her spirit to return to me. The day she was buried, I went to the churchyard alone. I began to dig, desperate to hold her in my arms once more. I was just about to reach the coffin when I heard a sigh right at my ear. I felt a warm breath against my face."
He paused, his eyes fixed on the glowing embers of the fire. "I knew no living person was there, but I felt her presence as clearly as if I could see her. A sudden sense of relief washed over me. I filled the grave back in, feeling unspeakably consoled. Since then, I have been the victim of an intolerable torture. I feel her everywhere—in the house, on the moors, in her old bedroom. Every time I close my eyes, I feel her entering the room or resting her head on my pillow, but when I open them, she is gone. For eighteen years, I have been teased by the ghost of a hope. But now, after seeing her again, I am finally at peace."
Heathcliff wiped the perspiration from his forehead, his face showing the intense mental strain of his obsession. He seemed to have forgotten I was even there.
When Catherine returned, ready for the journey, Heathcliff told her she wouldn't need her pony. "It’s a fine evening," he said, "and you won't be taking any more trips once you reach the Heights. Your own feet will be enough for the life you’ll lead there."
"Goodbye, Ellen," Catherine whispered, her lips feeling as cold as ice as she kissed me. "Please, don't forget to come and see me."
"Don't you dare, Mrs. Dean," Heathcliff warned. "I want no prying eyes at my house. If I want to speak to you, I will come here."
He gestured for Catherine to walk ahead of him. She gave me one last look of heartbreak before disappearing into the shadows of the trees. I watched from the window as they walked away, Heathcliff gripping her arm tightly, hurrying her toward her new, grim reality.