oil painting from picture

`I might as well have struggled with a bear, or reasoned with a lunatic. The only resource left me was to run to a lattice and warn his intended victim of the fate which awaited him.
`"You'd better seek shelter somewhere else tonight!'' I exclaimed in a rather triumphant tone. ``Mr Earnshaw has a mind to shoot you, if you persist in endeavouring to enter.''
``You'd better open the door, you--"he answered, addressing me by some elegant term that I don't care to repeat.
``I shall not meddle in the matter,'' I retorted again. ``Come in and get shot, if you please! I've done my duty.''
`With that I shut the window and returned to my place by the fire; having too small a stock of hypocrisy at my command to pretend any anxiety for the danger that menaced him. Earnshaw swore passionately at me: affirming that I loved the villain yet; and calling me all sorts of names for the base spirit I evinced. And I, in my secret heart (and conscience never reproached me), thought what a blessing it would be for him should Heathcliff put him out of misery; and what a blessing for me should he send Heathcliff to his right abode! As I sat nursing these reflections, the casement behind me was banged on to the floor by a blow from the latter individual, and his black countenance liked blightingly through. The stanchions stood too close to suffer his shoulders to follow, and I smiled, exulting in my fancied security. His hair and clothes were whitened with snow, and his sharp cannibal teeth, revealed by cold and wrath, gleamed through the dark.
`"Isabella, let me in, or I'll make you repent!'' he ``girned'', as Joseph calls it.
I cannot commit murder,'' I replied. ``Mr Hindley stands sentinel with a knife and loaded pistol.''
``Let me in by the kitchen door,'' he said.