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WUTHERING HEIGHTS.
281
door stood wide open, but nobody seemed at hand.
As I hesitated whether to go off at once, or return and seek my mistress, a slight cough drew my attention to the hearth.
Linton lay on the settle, sole tenant, sucking a stick of sugar-candy, and pursuing my movements with apathetic eyes.
"Where is Miss Catherine?" I demanded, sternly, supposing I could frighten him into giving intelligence, by catching him thus, alone.
He sucked on like an innocent.
"Is she gone?" I said.
"No," he replied; "she's up stairs—she's not to go; we wont let her."
"You wont let her, little idiot!" I exclaimed. "Direct me to her room immediately, or I'll make you sing out sharply."
"Papa would make you sing out, if you attempted to get there," he answered. "He
