The rain was pouring sideways, getting under Heathcliff's hat and soaking his face and dark hair. Droplets gathered on his eyelashes, blurring his vision. He blinked them away with annoyance. His clothes were sopping wet, and his shoes made sloshing sounds with every step. The night was melting into sunrise, but the sun held no refuge from the rain. Gray clouds stopped the beauty of the sunrise from reaching his eyes. He stopped, staring at the horizon. And thought of her. Catherine. The name held a certain grief even as he thought it. She was the one, the only one, he would ever love. And she had just become engaged. A surge of anger pounded through him at the simpering whelp that was to become her husband. That pitiful boy was the rain cloud preventing him from seeing the beautiful sunrise. And for what reason? He overheard her talking to her maidservant, saying that it was Edgar's money that caused her to accept his offer of marriage. She wanted to use him to lift me from poverty. She loves me. But she chose him. If she just believed in me, that I could make myself good enough for her, then she would never have considered him!
He had been walking alone in the mud for twelve hours for one purpose. He was going to Europe, to become a gentleman good enough for the woman he loved to marry him. And when he came back, she would have no reason to choose Edgar. She would choose the man she loved and they would be together as they should be. Even as he mused on his plan, grief washed over him. He hated leaving her, even if it was just for a short time. She was his sunrise, her love the rays which gave him motivation to go on living. But to gain her forever, he had to leave her for a few years. And when he came back, they would never part again. Or so he hoped.
Catherine ran around the moor for the twelfth time, rain completely soaked through her thin nightgown and her hair. She felt heavy as the water gathered into the fabric, but she kept running. She had to find Heathcliff. It had been over twelve hours since he left, and she was worried he had done something stupid. And after overhearing that she had agreed to Edgar's proposal, she understood why he would. She was filthy and shivering, sobbing uncontrollably. She felt his absence like a knife in her chest, but she couldn't let her discomfort stop her from finding him. After all, how much more pain would she be in if she found out he was dead in a bog somewhere? The thought started her tears again, and with that and the rain, she just couldn't see enough to keep on searching. She tried anyway. After an hour though, she knew it wasn't working out. She was about to pass out in the grass. She decided to trudge home, so she would have strength to keep looking tomorrow. She reached the gate to Wuthering heights, where a small light was still on. She used the last of her strength to push the door open and walk a few steps before collapsing on the floor. Her brother was yelling for Heathcliff like she had been all night.
"Where is he?" Hindley growled at her.
"I don't know." She whispered. "I don't know." Hearing the dismay in her voice, Hindley turned around to find her lying on the floor, shivering, sneezing and her clothes creating puddles on the floor. He gasped, leaning over her. "Catherine! What have you done to yourself? Have you been out all night?" He gathered her in his arms and carried her upstairs. The world spun around her, spots showing at the edge of her vision. "I don't care about myself. What matters is what have I done to him?" Hindley looked as if he wanted her to explain, but she couldn't. Hindley hated Heathcliff with a passion, and he would never condone his beloved sister's worry about him. Catherine tried to lift herself away from Hindley to go back out to search for the man she loved, but found with dismay that she couldn't. She let the blackness envelop her as she reached her room, Heathcliff's face still clear in her mind.