《呼嘯山莊》(“Wuthering Heights”)的作者是英國(guó)十九世紀(jì)著名詩(shī)人和小說家艾米莉•勃朗特(EmilyBronte，1818－1848)。這位女作家在世界上僅僅度過了三十年便默默無(wú)聞地離開了人間。應(yīng)該說，她首先是個(gè)詩(shī)人，寫過一些極為深沉的抒情詩(shī)，包括敘事詩(shī)和短詩(shī)，有的已被選入英國(guó)十九世紀(jì)及二十世紀(jì)中二十二位第一流的詩(shī)人的詩(shī)選內(nèi)。然而她唯一的一部小說《呼嘯山莊》卻奠定了她在英國(guó)文學(xué)史以及世界文學(xué)史上的地位。她與《簡(jiǎn)愛》(“JaneEyre”)的作者夏洛蒂•勃朗特(“CharlotteBronteD，1816—1855)，和她們的小妹妹——《愛格尼斯•格雷》(“AgnesGrey”)的作者安•勃朗特(AnneBronteD，1820—1849)號(hào)稱勃朗特三姊妹，在英國(guó)十九世紀(jì)文壇上煥發(fā)異彩。特別是《簡(jiǎn)愛》和《呼嘯山莊》，猶如一對(duì)顆粒不大卻光彩奪目的貓兒眼寶石，世人在瀏覽十九世紀(jì)英國(guó)文學(xué)遺產(chǎn)時(shí)，不能不驚異地發(fā)現(xiàn)這是稀世珍物，而其中之一更是如此令人留戀贊嘆，人們不禁惋惜這一位才華洋溢的姑娘，如果不是過早地逝世，將會(huì)留下多少璀璨的篇章來養(yǎng)育讀者的心靈！  
　　Summer was already past its prime, when Edgar reluctantly yielded his assent to their entreaties, and Catherine and I set out on our first ride to join her cousin. It was a close, sultry day: devoid of sunshine, but with a sky too dappled and hazy to threaten rain; and our place of meeting had been fixed at the guide-stone, by the crossroads. On arriving there, however, a little herd-boy, dispatched as a messenger, told us that: 
　　Maister Linton wer just ut this side th’ Heights: and he’d be mitch obleeged to us to gang on a bit farther.’ 
　　Then Master Linton has forgot the first injunction of his uncle,’ I observed: he bid us keep on the Grange land, and here we are off at once.’ 
　　Well, we’ll turn our horses’ heads round, when we reach him,’ answered my companion, `our excursion shall lie towards home.’ 
　　But when we reached him, and that was scarcely a quarter of a mile from his own door, we found he had no horse; and we were forced to dismount, and leave ours to graze. He lay on the heath, awaiting our approach, and did not rise till we came within a few yards. Then he walked so feebly, and looked so pale, that I immediately exclaimed: 
　　Why, Master Heathcliff, you are not fit for enjoying a ramble, this morning. How ill you do look!’ 
　　Catherine surveyed him with grief and astonishment; and changed the ejaculation of joy on her lips, to one of alarm; and the congratulation on their long-postponed meeting, to an anxious inquiry, whether he were worse than usual? 
　　No--better--better!’ he panted, trembling, and retaining her hand as if he needed its support, while his large blue eyes wandered timidly over her; the hollowness round them transforming to haggard wildness the languid expression they once possessed。 
　　But you have been worse,’ persisted his cousin; `worse than when I saw you last; you are thinner, and　I’m tired,’ he interrupted hurriedly. `It is too hot for walking, let us rest here. And, in the morning, I often feel sick--papa says I grow so fast.’ 
　　Badly satisfied, Cathy sat down, and he reclined beside her。