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The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte: bottom still full of snail-shells and pebbles, which we were fond
of storing there with more perishable things; and, as fresh as
reality, it appeared that I beheld my early playmate seated on the
withered turf: his dark, square head bent forward, and his little
hand scooping out the earth with a piece of slate. 'Poor Hindley!'
I exclaimed, involuntarily. I started: my bodily eye was cheated
into a momentary belief that the child lifted its face and stared
straight into mine! It vanished in a twinkling; but immediately I
felt an irresistible yearning to be at the Heights. Superstition
urged me to comply with this impulse: supposing he should be dead!
I thought - or should die soon! - supposing it were a sign of
Wuthering Heights |
