oil painting from picture

`If the little fiend had got in at the window, she probably would have strangled me!' I returned. `I'm not going to endure the persecutions of your hospitable ancestors again. Was not the Reverend Jabes Branderham akin to you on the mother's side? And that minx, Catherine Linton, or Earnshaw, or however she was called--she must have been a changeling--wicked little soul! She told me she had been walking the earth these twenty years: a just punishment for her mortal transgressions, I've no doubt!'
Scarcely were these words uttered, when I recollected the association of Heathcliff's with Catherine's name in the book,--which had completely slipped from my memory, till thus awakened. I blushed at my inconsideration; but, without showing further consciousness of the offence, I hastened to add--`The truth is, sir, I passed the first part of the night in'--Here I stopped afresh--I was about to say perusing those old volumes', then it would have revealed my knowledge of their written, as well as their printed, contents: so, correcting myself, I went on, `in spelling over the name scratched on that window-ledge. A monotonous occupation, calculated to set me asleep, like counting, or--'
`What can you mean by talking in this way to me?' thundered Heathcliff with savage vehemence. `How--how dare you, under my roof?--God! he's mad to speak so!' And he struck his forehead with rage.
I did not know whether to resent this language or pursue my explanation; but he seemed so powerfully affected that I took pity and proceeded with my dreams; affirming I had never heard the appellation of `Catherine Linton' before, but reading it often over produced an impression which personified itself when I had no longer