I began, in the interval of swallowing one cup of tea and receiving another - ‘it is strange how custom can mould our tastes and ideas: many could not imagine the existence of happiness in a life of such complete exile from the world as you spend, Mr. Heathcliff; yet, I’ll venture to say, that, surrounded by your family, and with your amiable lady as the presiding genius over your home and heart - ‘

‘My amiable lady!’ he interrupted, with an almost diabolical sneer on his face. ‘Where is she - my amiable lady?’

‘Mrs. Heathcliff, your wife, I mean.’

‘Well, yes - oh, you would intimate that her spirit has taken the post of ministering angel, and guards the fortunes of Wuthering Heights, even when her body is gone. Is that it?’