The Wolf of Wuthering Moor
ACT I The frost had taken Mrs. Blackwood by morning. Eleanor found her in the chair by the hearth, the one she always occupied, her blind eyes open and fixed on nothing, her hands folded over the walking stick she had used to drive the village children away. The fire was dead. The cottage was cold. And Eleanor, who had not spoken since she was three years old, understood for the first time what...
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