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Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 1,923 | CHAPTER XXXIV | “No, Mr. Lockwood,” said Nelly, shaking her head. “I believe the dead are at peace: but it is not right to speak of them with levity.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 1,924 | CHAPTER XXXIV | At that moment the garden gate swung to; the ramblers were returning. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 1,925 | CHAPTER XXXIV | “They are afraid of nothing,” I grumbled, watching their approach through the window. “Together, they would brave Satan and all his legions.” |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 1,926 | CHAPTER XXXIV | As they stepped on to the door-stones, and halted to take a last look at the moon—or, more correctly, at each other by her light—I felt irresistibly impelled to escape them again; and, pressing a remembrance into the hand of Mrs. Dean, and disregarding her expostulations at my rudeness, I vanished through the kitchen as they opened the house-door; and so should have confirmed Joseph in his opinion of his fellow-servant’s gay indiscretions, had he not fortunately recognised me for a respectable character by the sweet ring of a sovereign at his feet. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 1,927 | CHAPTER XXXIV | My walk home was lengthened by a diversion in the direction of the kirk. When beneath its walls, I perceived decay had made progress, even in seven months: many a window showed black gaps deprived of glass; and slates jutted off, here and there, beyond the right line of the roof, to be gradually worked off in coming autumn storms. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 1,928 | CHAPTER XXXIV | I sought, and soon discovered, the three headstones on the slope next the moor: the middle one grey, and half buried in heath; Edgar Linton’s only harmonized by the turf and moss creeping up its foot; Heathcliff’s still bare. |
Wuthering_Heights_-_Emily_Bronte | 99 | 1,929 | CHAPTER XXXIV | I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth. |