Dear Diary,

Right now, I am feeling rather exhausted. It has been an extremely trying day today. However, I feel I must express my feelings, otherwise sleep will be unattainable. I have been deprived of my dignity- by that blackguard who calls himself Heathcliff, of all creatures! My blood boils merely remembering the scene. Yet my frustration is, mostly, directed at Cathy. My wife. My beloved! Are not those bonded by marriage appointed by God to care more for no one than for each other? She all but shattered our bonds today, siding with her ruffian friend against me! Oh, Cathy dear, my heart is torn. I know not whether to be angry at you for your shameful conduct, or feel betrayed, or yet to pity you for your ill choice of acquaintances. Not content with poisoning my wife against me, her friend has now set his infernal eye on my sister. She swoons over him, follows the lowly gypsy as if he were a noble king. The impotence of seeing own family disgrace me, and feeling there is nothing on this earthly realm I can do to stop the tragedy-it is indescribable. Finally, like a shadow growing in the darkest corners of my mind, there is a mounting concern for Cathy. I cannot bear to see her this vexed, yet I must not give in to her tricks; she must choose between Heathcliff's friendship or mine, and I must know of her choice, even if it breaks my mind and heart.

As if to prove this fact, and provoke me, the skies are covered tonight. It is as if the devil has taken all joy and sweetness from my surroundings. The moon is full tonight, yet the clouds obscure it in a most daunting manner. The wind sweeps over the moors, howling and moaning like a lost soul. The heavens have started pouring. But strangely enough, when I opened the window to breathe the scents of pine-wood and damp earth that oftentimes accompany rain, and so ease the tremors in my conscience, I perceived only the smell of rotting leaves.

This afternoon, two ominous events occurred. The first one was caused by an intrusion from the aforementioned ruffian who haunts my house. He dared taunt me, trying to excite a rash response from me. I held my peace and stood his mockery for as long as I could, for my wife's sake. However, when he pushed my chair, I could stand it no longer. I felt cowardly as I fled for reinforcements, but when I came back he was gone. The second happening was shorter, yet more disturbing. Nelly asked me to spare her a moment, and privately told me the lowly beggar had originally come to my house today to harass my sister.

Upon hearing of this, I resolved to speak to Isabella. This evening, after dinner, I called her into my study. She came in warily and sat at my signal, her body tense, her hands crossed over her lap.

"Isabella," I commenced, aware of the difficult task ahead of me, "It has come to my notice that you hold a strange kind of affection for that… gypsy who presently resides in Wuthering Heights."

"If you mean Heathcliff, brother, then yes, I do indeed harbour feelings towards him." She answered me, haughtily. "And it is quite all right to say his name; it will not burn your tongue."

Her words shocked me beyond speech. That devil's charms went far beyond what I could ever imagine. To hear my own sweet little sister speak like that, and to me, her own kin!

"Do you not see what he has done to us? Cathy grows wilder every time he comes. He insults the Linton name to our face, and has done so in your presence, Isabella! At least, please- please tell me about the exact nature of your feelings, and why you have them."

"Oh, Edgar!" she answered, her voice returning to its usual dainty trill. "It is you who does not understand. Mr. Heathcliff has done terrible things, it is true- and yet, it was all caused by his pain. You inquire about my feelings- I could not do them justice with mere words. All I can say is I wish to rid him of his pain. If he would only let his eyes see beyond my selfish sister, if only he would love me instead…" her eyes were downcast, and she wrung her hands until her knuckles went white.

At that, I could hold myself no longer.

"Pain! You see pain in his eyes, Isabella? I wonder what it is you see in mine, then, every time that villain comes to hurt you and Cathy. And now you claim to love a man who dishonours your household, an individual devoid of any title, manners or even named parents. Isabella, you must stop this. First, he does not love you; second, even if he did, his love would bring you nothing but suffering. And third, your foolish affections are even now starting to cause malicious rumours to spread. If you continue this, Isabella, any worthy suitors you might have will be thoroughly discouraged."

I concluded my speech looking deep into her eyes, trying to convey the meaning behind my words. Inadvertently, I had been leaning forward in my armchair. I suddenly found myself gripping the arms of my seat with tightened muscles. My voice felt hoarse after speaking my entreaties to my sister, hoping they had not failed to shake her heart.

She looked childishly angry. Her nose was wrinkled, lips tightened and chin lifted. Her small fists were now at her sides, closed nails digging into her palms.

"No! If you refuse to believe in me, Edgar, refuse to give Heathcliff a chance, so be it. I warn you that your selfishness and Cathy's may endeavour to stop me, but love is an unstoppable force, as you should well know." She rose suddenly. Her voice was bitter, but she was biting her lips and seemed to be holding back tears. "And Mr. Heathcliff does love me, he does!" ending her speech with this childish statement, her voice high and quavering, she turned around and hurriedly dashed out of the room.

I must retire now, but I am left to reflect over my sister's unyielding attitude. I feel I have somehow failed as a brother, yet there are no options left. I am at a loss.