The fancied object was not fixed either; his eyes pursued it with unwearied vigilance, and even in speaking to me, were never weaned away.

I vainly reminded him of his protracted abstinence from food.  If he stirred to touch anything in compliance with my entreaties—­if he stretched his hand out to get a piece of bread—­his fingers clenched before they reached it, and remained on the table, forgetful of their aim.

I sat, a model of patience, trying to attract his absorbed attention from its engrossing speculation till he grew irritable and got up, asking why I would not allow him to have his own time in taking his meals? and saying that on the next occasion I needn’t wait—­I might set the things down and go.  Having uttered these words, he left the house, slowly sauntered down the garden path, and disappeared through the gate.

The hours crept anxiously by:  another evening came.  I did not retire to rest till late, and when I did I could not sleep.  He returned after midnight, and instead of going to bed, shut himself into the room beneath.  I listened and tossed about, and finally dressed and descended.  It was too irksome to lie up there, harassing my brain with a hundred idle misgivings.

I distinguished Mr. Heathcliff’s step, restlessly measuring the floor; and he frequently broke the silence by a deep inspiration, resembling a groan.  He muttered detached words also; the only one I could catch was the name of Catherine, coupled with some wild term of endearment or suffering, and spoken as one would speak to a person present—­low and earnest, and wrung from the depth of his soul.

I had not courage to walk straight into the apartment; but I desired to divert him from his revery, and therefore fell foul of the kitchen fire; stirred it and began to scrape the cinders.  It drew him forth sooner than I expected.  He opened the door immediately, and said:—­

“Nelly, come here—­is it morning?  Come in with your light.”

“It is striking four,” I answered; “you want a candle to take upstairs—­you might have lighted one at this fire.”

“No, I don’t wish to go upstairs,” he said.  “Come in, and kindle me a fire, and do anything there is to do about the room.”

“I must blow the coals red first, before I can carry any,” I replied, getting a chair and the bellows.

He roamed to and fro, meantime, in a state approaching distraction, his heavy sighs succeeding each other so thick as to leave no space for common breathing between.

“When day breaks, I’ll send for Green,” he said; “I wish to make some legal inquiries of him, while I can bestow a thought on those matters, and while I can act calmly.  I have not written my will yet, and how to leave my property I cannot determine!  I wish I could annihilate it from the face of the earth.”