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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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117 Heathcliff--you recollect him, sir--who used to live at Mr. Earnshaw’s.” “What! the gypsy--the ploughboy?” he cried. “Why did you not say so to Catherine?” “Hush! you must not call him by those names, master,” I said. “She’d be sadly grieved to hear you. She was nearly heartbroken when he ran off. I guess his return will make a jubilee to her.” Mr. Linton walked to a window on the other side of the room that overlooked the court. He unfastened it, and leant out. I suppose they were below, for he exclaimed quickly, “Don’t stand there, love! Bring the person in, if it be any one particular.” Ere long, I heard the click of the latch, and Catherine flew upstairs, breathless and wild; too excited to show gladness: indeed, by her face, you would rather have surmised an awful calamity. “Oh, Edgar, Edgar!” she panted, flinging her arms round his neck. “Oh, Edgar, darling! Heathcliff’s come back--he is!” And she tightened her embrace to a squeeze. “Well, well,” cried her husband crossly, “don’t strangle me for that! He never struck me as such a marvellous treasure. There is no need to be frantic!” “I know you didn’t like him,” she answered, repressing a little the intensity of her delight. “Yet, for my sake, you must be friends now. Shall I tell him to come up?” “Here?” he said. “Into the parlour?” “Where else?” she asked. He looked vexed, and suggested the kitchen as a more suitable place for him. Mrs. Linton eyed him with a droll expression--half angry, half |
