Wuthering Heights

“However, I’m not helpless yet; I’ll open it myself.”

And sliding from the bed before I could hinder her, she crossed the
room, walking very uncertainly, threw it back, and bent out, careless
of the frosty air that cut about her shoulders as keen as a knife. I
entreated, and finally attempted to force her to retire. But I soon
found her delirious strength much surpassed mine (she _was_ delirious,
I became convinced by her subsequent actions and ravings). There was no
moon, and everything beneath lay in misty darkness: not a light gleamed
from any house, far or near; all had been extinguished long ago: and
those at Wuthering Heights were never visible—still she asserted she
caught their shining.

“Look!” she cried eagerly, “that’s my room with the candle in it, and
the trees swaying before it; and the other candle is in Joseph’s
garret. Joseph sits up late, doesn’t he? He’s waiting till I come home
that he may lock the gate. Well, he’ll wait a while yet. It’s a rough
journey, and a sad heart to travel it; and we must pass by Gimmerton
Kirk to go that journey! We’ve braved its ghosts often together, and
dared each other to stand among the graves and ask them to come. But,