Heathcliff may have entirely dissimilar reasons for keeping his
hand out of the way when he meets a would-be acquaintance, to those
which actuate me. Let me hope my constitution is almost peculiar:
my dear mother used to say I should never have a comfortable home;
and only last summer I proved myself perfectly unworthy of one.

While enjoying a month of fine weather at the sea-coast, I was
thrown into the company of a most fascinating creature: a real
goddess in my eyes, as long as she took no notice of me. I 'never
told my love' vocally; still, if looks have language, the merest
idiot might have guessed I was over head and ears: she understood
me at last, and looked a return - the sweetest of all imaginable
looks. And what did I do? I confess it with shame - shrunk icily
into myself, like a snail; at every glance retired colder and
farther; till finally the poor innocent was led to doubt her own
senses, and, overwhelmed with confusion at her supposed mistake,
persuaded her mamma to decamp. By this curious turn of disposition
I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness; how
undeserved, I alone can appreciate.

I took a seat at the end of the hearthstone opposite that towards
which my landlord advanced, and filled up an interval of silence by
attempting to caress the canine mother, who had left her nursery,
and was sneaking wolfishly to the back of my legs, her lip curled
up, and her white teeth watering for a snatch. My caress provoked
a long, guttural gnarl.

'You'd better let the dog alone,' growled Mr. Heathcliff in unison,
checking fiercer demonstrations with a punch of his foot. 'She's
not accustomed to be spoiled - not kept for a pet.' Then, striding