When we got to Wuthering Heights, there he stood at the front door; and, as I passed in, I asked, “how was the baby?”
“Damn the doctor!” he interrupted, reddening. “Frances is quite right: shell be perfectly well by this time next week. Are you going upstairs? will you tell her that Ill come, if shell promise not to talk. Kenneth says she must be quiet.”
For himself, he grew desperate: his sorrow was of that kind that will not lament
I delivered this message to Mrs. Earnshaw; she seemed in flighty spirits, and replied merrily, “I hardly spoke a word, Ellen, and there he has gone out twice, crying. Well, say I promise I wont speak: but that does not bind me not to laugh at him!”
Till within a week of her death that gay heart never failed her; and her husband persisted doggedly, nay, furiously, in affirming her health improved every day. When Kenneth warned him that his medicines were useless at that stage of the malady, and he neednt put him to further expense by attending her, he retorted, “I know you need not-shes well-she does not want any more attendance from you! She never was in a consumption. It was a fever; and it is gone: her pulse is as slow as mine now, and her cheek as cool.”
He told his wife the same story, and she seemed to believe him; but one night, while leaning on his shoulder, in the act of saying she thought she should be able to get up to-morrow, a fit of coughing took her-a very slight one-he raised her in his arms; she put her two hands about his neck, her face changed, and she was dead.