At a most miserable period of my life, I had a notion of the kind: it haunted me on my return to the neighbourhood last summer; but only her own assurance could make me admit the horrible idea again. And then, Linton would be nothing, nor Hindley, nor all the dreams that ever I dreamt. Two words would comprehend my future-_death_ and _hell_: existence, after losing her, would be hell. 
If she did not care about me, two words would comprehend my future - death and hell. Existence, after losing her, would be hell. 