Linton is the son of Heathcliff and Isabella. Both physically and mentally weak, he is despised by Heathcliff who uses him simply to gain control of Thrushcross Grange.
|Parents: Heathcliff and Isabella Linton||Siblings: none|
|Date of birth: "a few months" after April 1784||Place of birth: Near London|
|Married: Cathy Linton in September 1801 at Wuthering Heights||Children: none|
|Date of death: September 1801 (aged 17)||Place of death: Wuthering Heights|
|Physical description: Pale skin; thick, pale blond hair in curls; large languid blue eyes like Isabella; slim and frail|
(At birth) He was christened Linton, and, from the first, [Isabella] reported him to be an ailing, peevish creature.
(1797, aged 12) 'Aunt Isabella sent papa a beautiful lock of his hair; it was lighter than mine [Cathy's] —more flaxen, and quite as fine.'
(1797, aged 12) [Linton] was asleep in a corner, wrapped in a warm, fur-lined cloak, as if it had been winter. A pale, delicate, effeminate boy, who might have been taken for [Edgar's] younger brother, so strong was the resemblance: but there was a sickly peevishness in his aspect that Edgar Linton never had.
(1797, aged 12) 'Black hair and eyes!' mused Linton. 'I can't fancy him [Heathcliff]. Then I am not like him, am I?'
'Not much,' I answered: not a morsel, I thought, surveying with regret the white complexion and slim frame of my companion, and his large languid eyes—his mother's eyes, save that, unless a morbid touchiness kindled them a moment, they had not a vestige of her sparkling spirit.
(1800, aged 15) Linton's looks and movements were very languid, and his form extremely slight; but there was a grace in his manner that mitigated these defects, and rendered him not unpleasing.
(1800, aged 16) Cathy, beside herself, gave the chair a violent push, and caused him to fall against one arm. He was immediately seized by a suffocating cough that soon ended his triumph. It lasted so long that it frightened even me.
(1800, aged 16) We were recalled by a scream. Linton had slid from his seat on to the hearthstone, and lay writhing in the mere perverseness of an indulged plague of a child, determined to be as grievous and harassing as it can.
(1801, aged 16) 'Linton can play the little tyrant well. He'll undertake to torture any number of cats, if their teeth be drawn and their claws pared.'