Can you imagine how utterly boring it must have been to be a young woman of the leisure class in the 19th Century? It seems as though the Linton women spent most of the day sitting in the parlor or walking on the moors or in the garden. Sure, it would be great to have servants to do all the mundane household chores and be waited on hand and foot, but what else did they do? Even when they were sitting in the parlor, did they do needlework or maybe some reading or painting? Imagine being eighteen years old with nothing to do and no one to socialize with except your gentle, but boring, brother and his moody, bossy wife who got her own amusement by bossing around the help.
It's really no wonder that when Heathcliff showed up all handsome and single that, in desperate need of excitement in her young life, was blinded by love and hormones. Of course, everyone warned her about his cruel streak and hatred for anything or anyone Linton, but she stubbornly refused to face the facts only to suffer for her mistake. Heathcliff hung her dog right in front of her! That should have been her first clue, and the only clue she should need, that everyone had told her the truth about him.
You have to admire her courage and strength to escape his abuse, risking her death from exposure if not from his rage if he chose to pursue her after the sharp words she threw his way as she made her way toward the door.
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