"I don't know," she replied, casting a longing look to the door, and evidently eager to be active.
He kept his seat, and shrank closer to the fire.
Heathcliff rose, and went into the kitchen, and from thence to the yard, calling out for Hareton.
Hareton responded, and presently the two re-entered. The young man had been washing himself, as was visible by the glow on his cheeks, and his wetted hair.
"Oh, I'll ask you, uncle;" cried Miss Cathy, recollecting the housekeeper's assertion. "That's not my cousin, is he?"
"Yes," he replied, "your mother's nephew. Don't you like him?"
Catherine looked queer.
"Is he not a handsome lad?" he continued.
The uncivil little thing stood on tiptoe, and whispered a sentence in Heathcliff's ear.
He laughed; Hareton darkened; I perceived
