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289 arm of the great chair, in which he reclined. “No--don’t kiss me. It takes my breath--dear me! Papa said you would call,” continued he, after recovering a little from Catherine’s embrace, while she stood by looking very contrite. “Will you shut the door, if you please? you left it open; and those--those detestable creatures won’t bring coals to the fire. It’s so cold!” I stirred up the cinders, and fetched a scuttle full myself. The invalid complained of being covered with ashes; but he had a tiresome cough, and looked feverish and ill, so I did not rebuke his temper. “Well, Linton,” murmured Catherine, when his corrugated brow relaxed. “Are you glad to see me? Can I do you any good?” “Why didn’t you come before?” he said. “You should have come, instead of writing. It tired me dreadfully, writing those long letters. I’d far rather have talked to you. Now, I can neither bear to talk, nor anything else. I wonder where Zillah is! Will you (looking at me) step into the kitchen and see?” I had received no thanks for my other service; and being unwilling to run to and fro at his behest, I replied-- “Nobody is out there but Joseph.” “I want to drink,” he exclaimed fretfully, turning away. “Zillah is constantly gadding off to Gimmerton since Papa went--it’s miserable! And I’m obliged to come down here--they resolved never to hear me upstairs.” “Is your father attentive to you, Master Heathcliff?” I asked, perceiving Catherine to be checked in her friendly advances. “Attentive? He makes them a little more attentive, at least,” he cried. “The wretches! Do you know, Miss Linton, that brute Hareton laughs at me--I hate him--indeed, I hate them all--they |