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1801—I have just returned from a visit to my landlord—the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful country! In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society. A perfect misanthropist’s Heaven—and Mr. Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair to divide…

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1801—I have just returned from a visit to my landlord—the solitary
neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful
country! In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a
situation so completely removed from the stir of society. A perfect
misanthropist’s Heaven—and Mr. Heathcliff and I are such a suitable
pair to divide the desolation between us. A capital fellow! He little
imagined how my heart warmed towards him when I beheld his black eyes
withdraw so suspiciously under their brows, as I rode up, and when his
fingers sheltered themselves, with a jealous resolution, still further
in his waistcoat, as I announced my name.

“Mr. Heathcliff?” I said.

A nod was the answer.

“Mr. Lockwood, your new tenant, sir. I do myself the honour of calling
as soon as possible after my arrival, to express the hope that I have
not inconvenienced you by my perseverance in soliciting the occupation
of Thrushcross Grange: I heard yesterday you had had some thoughts—”

“Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir,” he interrupted, wincing. “I should
not allow any one to inconvenience me, if I could hinder it—walk in!”

The “walk in” was uttered with closed teeth, and expressed the
sentiment, “Go to the Deuce!” even the gate over which he leant
manifested no sympathising movement to the words; and I think that
circumstance determined me to accept the invitation: I felt interested
in a man who seemed more exaggeratedly reserved than myself.

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