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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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19 interpret the language of his soul. “Ah, certainly--I see now; you are the favoured possessor of the beneficent fairy,” I remarked, turning to my neighbour. This was worse than before: the youth grew crimson, and clenched his fist, with every appearance of a meditated assault. But he seemed to recollect himself presently, and smothered the storm in a brutal curse, muttered on my behalf, which, however, I took care not to notice. “Unhappy in your conjectures, sir!” observed my host; “we neither of us have the privilege of owning your good fairy; her mate is dead. I said she was my daughter-in-law, therefore, she must have married my son.” “And this young man is--” “Not my son, assuredly!” Heathcliff smiled again, as if it were rather too bold a jest to attribute the paternity of that bear to him. “My name is Hareton Earnshaw,” growled the other, “and I’d counsel you to respect it!” “I’ve shown no disrespect,” was my reply, laughing internally at the dignity with which he announced himself. He fixed his eye on me longer than I cared to return the stare, for fear I might be tempted either to box his ears or render my hilarity audible. I began to feel unmistakably out of place in that pleasant family circle. The dismal spiritual atmosphere overcame, and more than neutralised, the glowing physical comforts round me; and I resolved to be cautious how I ventured under those rafters a third time. The business of eating being concluded, and no one uttering a word of sociable conversation, I approached a window to examine |
