animal painting

`"Nay, it's enough that he has murdered one of you,'' I observed aloud. ``At the Grange, everyone knows your sister would have been living now, had it not been for Mr Heathcliff. After all, it is preferable to be hated than loved by him. When I recollect how happy we were--how happy Catherine was before he came--I'm fit to curse the day.''
`Most likely, Heathcliff noticed more the truth of what was said, than the spirit of the person who said it. His attention was roused, I saw, for his eyes rained down tears among the ashes, and he drew his breath in suffocating sighs. I stared full at him, and laughed scornfully. The clouded windows of hell flashed a moment towards me; the fiend which usually looked out, however, was so dimmed and drowned that I did not fear to hazard another sound of derision.
``Get up, and begone out of my sight,'' said the mourner.
`I guessed he uttered those words, at least, though his voice was hardly intelligible.
`"I beg your pardon,'' I replied. ``But I loved Catherine too; and her brother requires attendance, which, for her sake, I shall supply. Now that she's dead, I see her in Hindley: Hindley has exactly her eyes, if you had not tried to gouge them out, and made them black and red; and her--''
``Get up, wretched idiot, before I stamp you to death!'' he cried, making a movement that caused me to make one also.
``But then,'' I continued, holding myself ready to flee; ``if poor Catherine had trusted you, and assumed the ridiculous, contemptible, degrading title of Mrs Heathcliff,