Wuthering Heights

Fortunately its mother died before the time arrived; some thirteen
years after the decease of Catherine, when Linton was twelve, or a
little more.

On the day succeeding Isabella’s unexpected visit I had no opportunity
of speaking to my master: he shunned conversation, and was fit for
discussing nothing. When I could get him to listen, I saw it pleased
him that his sister had left her husband; whom he abhorred with an
intensity which the mildness of his nature would scarcely seem to
allow. So deep and sensitive was his aversion, that he refrained from
going anywhere where he was likely to see or hear of Heathcliff. Grief,
and that together, transformed him into a complete hermit: he threw up
his office of magistrate, ceased even to attend church, avoided the
village on all occasions, and spent a life of entire seclusion within
the limits of his park and grounds; only varied by solitary rambles on
the moors, and visits to the grave of his wife, mostly at evening, or
early morning before other wanderers were abroad. But he was too good
to be thoroughly unhappy long. _He_ didn’t pray for Catherine’s soul to
haunt him. Time brought resignation, and a melancholy sweeter than