I am alone in the world. Mr. Earnshaw, the only man to ever show me kindness, is dead.
Hindley is master of Wuthering Heights, and his hatred for me is evident. I fear that, if it weren't for my idiotic luck at catching his slobbering spawn, I would be dead by now.
And now her. I am in an all-fired rage over the behavior of Ms. Catherine Earnshaw. How dare she say I am not fit to marry HER. It is by her brother's doing that I am cast so low.She's a bit barmy if she thinks her new-found placidity is anything more than a clever ruse to fool the daft Edgar Linton.
I can no longer reside at Wuthering Heights. I must take my leave of this place immediately. If Edgar has fallen into that barrel of treacle called love, it is his own undoing. I will not stand by and see Catherine's fire burn out. My only hope is that the asphyxiating air of Thrushcross Grange does not end her life.
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