Catherine's husband. His breeding and wealth attracted Catherine though Heathcliff was her true love. He is a spoiled, cowardly man although tender and loving to Catherine and his daughter. He is a contrast to Heathcliff both physically and spiritually.
|Parents: Mr and Mrs Linton||Siblings: Isabella (sister – 3 years younger)|
|Date of birth: 1762||Place of birth: Thrushcross Grange (assumed)|
|Married: Catherine Earnshaw in March 1783||Children: Cathy Linton, born 20 March 1784|
|Date of death: August 1801 (between 3 and 4 in the morning) (aged 39)||Place of death: Thrushcross Grange|
|Physical description: fair skin; long, light hair curled at temples; blue eyes|
(1777, aged 15) Edgar stood on the hearth weeping silently, and in the middle of the table sat a little dog, shaking its paw and yelping; which, from their mutual accusations, we understood they had nearly pulled in two between them.
(1777, aged 15) But, Nelly, if I knocked [Edgar] down twenty times, that wouldn't make him less handsome or me [Heathcliff] more so. I wish I had light hair and a fair skin, and was dressed and behaved as well, and had a chance of being as rich as he will be!
And cried for mamma at every turn,' I added, 'and trembled if a country lad heaved his fist against you, and sat at home all day for a shower of rain.
(1777, aged 15) In other words, I must wish for Edgar Linton's great blue eyes and even forehead,' [Heathcliff] replied.
(1780, aged 18) He had a sweet, low manner of speaking, and pronounced his words as you [Lockwood] do: that's less gruff than we talk here, and softer.
(About 1783, aged 20/21) [Description of his portrait] I discerned a soft-featured face, exceedingly resembling the young lady at the Heights, but more pensive and amiable in expression. It formed a sweet picture. The long light hair curled slightly on the temples; the eyes were large and serious; the figure almost too graceful.
(Around 1783, aged 20/21) I observed that Mr. Edgar had a deep-rooted fear of ruffling [Catherine's] humour. He concealed it from her; but if ever he heard me answer sharply, or saw any other servant grow cloudy at some imperious order of hers, he would show his trouble by a frown of displeasure that never darkened on his own account.
(1784, aged 21) … whereupon Mr. Edgar was taken with a nervous trembling, and his countenance grew deadly pale. For his life he could not avert that excess of emotion: mingled anguish and humiliation overcame him completely. He leant on the back of a chair, and covered his face.
(1784, aged 21) It was named Catherine; but [Edgar] never called it the name in full, as he had never called the first Catherine short: probably because Heathcliff had a habit of doing so. The little one was always Cathy: it formed to him a distinction from the mother, and yet a connection with her; and his attachment sprang from its relation to her, far more than from its being his own.