Wuthering Heights

Chapter XII
WHILE Miss Linton moped about the park and garden,
always silent, and almost always in tears; and her brother
shut himself up among books that he never opened wearying,
I guessed, with a continual vague expectation that
Catherine, repenting her conduct, would come of her own
accord to ask pardon, and seek a reconciliation and SHE
fasted pertinaciously, under the idea, probably, that at every
meal Edgar was ready to choke for her absence, and pride
alone held him from running to cast himself at her feet; I
went about my household duties, convinced that the Grange
had but one sensible soul in its walls, and that lodged in my
body. I wasted no condolences on Miss, nor any expostulations
on my mistress; nor did I pay much attention to the
sighs of my master, who yearned to hear his lady’s name,
since he might not hear her voice. I determined they should
come about as they pleased for me; and though it was a tiresomely
slow process, I began to rejoice at length in a faint
dawn of its progress: as I thought at first.
Mrs. Linton, on the third day, unbarred her door, and
having finished the water in her pitcher and decanter, desired
a renewed supply, and a basin of gruel, for she believed
she was dying. That I set down as a speech meant for Edgar’s
ears; I believed no such thing, so I kept it to myself
and brought her some tea and dry toast. She ate and drank
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