Cathy had been caught in the fact of plundering, or, at least, hunting out the nests of the grouse.
The Heights were Heathcliff's land, and he was reproving the poacher.
"I've neither taken any nor found any," she said, as I toiled to them, expanding her hands in corroboration of the statement. "I didn't mean to take them; but papa told me there were quantities up here, and I wished to see the eggs."
Heathcliff glanced at me with an ill-meaning smile, expressing his acquaintance with the party, and, consequently, his malevolence towards it, and demanded who "papa" was?
"Mr. Linton of Thrushcross Grange," she replied. "I thought you did not know me, or you wouldn't have spoken in that way."
"You suppose papa is highly esteemed and respected then?" he said, sarcastically.
"And what are you?" inquired Catherine,
