"I wish she felt as I do," he replied, "spiteful, cruel thing! Hareton never touches me, he never struck me in his life—And I was better to-day—and there—" his voice died in a whimper.
"I didn't strike you!" muttered Cathy chewing her lip to prevent another burst of emotion.
He sighed and moaned like one under great suffering; and kept it up for a quarter of an hour, on purpose to distress his cousin, apparently, for whenever he caught a stifled sob from her, he put renewed pain and pathos into the inflexions of his voice.
"I'm sorry I hurt you, Linton!" she said at length, racked beyond endurance. "But I couldn't have been hurt by that little push; and I had no idea that you could, either—you're not much, are you, Linton? Don't let me go home, thinking I've done you harm! answer, speak to me."
