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341 screamed for vexation that I couldn’t sleep.” “Is Mr. Heathcliff out?” I inquired, perceiving that the wretched creature had no power to sympathise with his cousin’s mental tortures. “He’s in the court,” he replied, “talking to Doctor Kenneth, who says Uncle is dying, truly, at last. I’m glad, for I shall be master of the Grange after him; and Catherine always spoke of it as her house. It isn’t hers! It’s mine--Papa says everything she has is mine. All her nice books are mine,--she offered to give me them, and her pretty birds, and her pony Minny, if I would get the key of our room, and let her out; but I told her she had nothing to give, they were all, all mine. And then she cried, and took a little picture from her neck, and said I should have that; two pictures in a gold case--on one side her mother, and on the other, Uncle, when they were young. That was yesterday--I said they were mine, too; and tried to get them from her. The spiteful thing wouldn’t let me: she pushed me off, and hurt me. I shrieked out--that frightens her-- she heard Papa coming, and she broke the hinges, and divided the case, and gave me her mother’s portrait; the other she attempted to hide; but Papa asked what was the matter, and I explained it. He took the one I had away, and ordered her to resign hers to me; she refused, and he--he struck her down, and wrenched it off the chain, and crushed it with his foot.” “And were you pleased to see her struck?” I asked, having my designs in encouraging his talk. “I winked,” he answered. “I wink to see my father strike a dog, or a horse, he does it so hard. Yet I was glad at first--she deserved punishing for pushing me; but when Papa was gone, she made me come to the window, and showed me her cheek cut on the inside, |