of good—it would make you another man, to have her for a companion.'
"'A companion?' he cried; 'when she hates me, and does not think me fit to wipe her shoon! Nay, if it made me a king, I'd not be scorned for seeking her good will any more.'
"'It is not I who hate you, it is you who hate me!' wept Cathy, no longer disguising her trouble. 'You hate me as much as Mr. Heathcliff does, and more.'
"'You're a damned liar,' began Earnshaw; 'why have I made him angry, by taking your part then, a hundred times? and that, when you sneered at, and despised me, and—Go on plaguing me, and I'll step in yonder, and say you worried me out of the kitchen!'
"'I didn't know you took my part,' she answered, drying her eyes; 'and I was miserable and bitter at every body; but, now I thank you, and beg you to forgive me, what can I do besides?'
"She returned to the hearth, and frankly extended her hand.
