Wuthering Heights

nearly quenched by sleeplessness, and weeping, perhaps, for the lashes
were wet then: his lips devoid of their ferocious sneer, and sealed in
an expression of unspeakable sadness. Had it been another, I would have
covered my face in the presence of such grief. In _his_ case, I was
gratified; and, ignoble as it seems to insult a fallen enemy, I
couldn’t miss this chance of sticking in a dart: his weakness was the
only time when I could taste the delight of paying wrong for wrong.”

“Fie, fie, Miss!” I interrupted. “One might suppose you had never
opened a Bible in your life. If God afflict your enemies, surely that
ought to suffice you. It is both mean and presumptuous to add your
torture to his!”

“In general I’ll allow that it would be, Ellen,” she continued; “but
what misery laid on Heathcliff could content me, unless I have a hand
in it? I’d rather he suffered _less_, if I might cause his sufferings
and he might _know_ that I was the cause. Oh, I owe him so much. On
only one condition can I hope to forgive him. It is, if I may take an
eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; for every wrench of agony return a
wrench: reduce him to my level. As he was the first to injure, make him