implacable, of spirits so lost and fallen; if it was complained
that the mere hearing of certain vivid and fearful scenes banished
sleep by night, and disturbed mental peace by day, Ellis Bell would
wonder what was meant, and suspect the complainant of affectation.
Had she but lived, her mind would of itself have grown like a
strong tree, loftier, straighter, wider-spreading, and its matured
fruits would have attained a mellower ripeness and sunnier bloom;
but on that mind time and experience alone could work: to the
influence of other intellects it was not amenable.

Having avowed that over much of 'Wuthering Heights' there broods 'a
horror of great darkness'; that, in its storm-heated and electrical
atmosphere, we seem at times to breathe lightning: let me point to
those spots where clouded day-light and the eclipsed sun still
attest their existence. For a specimen of true benevolence and
homely fidelity, look at the character of Nelly Dean; for an
example of constancy and tenderness, remark that of Edgar Linton.
(Some people will think these qualities do not shine so well
incarnate in a man as they would do in a woman, but Ellis Bell
could never be brought to comprehend this notion: nothing moved
her more than any insinuation that the faithfulness and clemency,
the long-suffering and loving-kindness which are esteemed virtues
in the daughters of Eve, become foibles in the sons of Adam. She
held that mercy and forgiveness are the divinest attributes of the
Great Being who made both man and woman, and that what clothes the
Godhead in glory, can disgrace no form of feeble humanity.) There
is a dry saturnine humour in the delineation of old Joseph, and
some glimpses of grace and gaiety animate the younger Catherine.
Nor is even the first heroine of the name destitute of a certain
strange beauty in her fierceness, or of honesty in the midst of