ley—" he replied. "And my wicked gossip; though he's been too wild for me this long while. There! I said we should draw water—But cheer up! He died true to his character drunk as a lord—Poor lad; I'm sorry too. One can't help missing an old companion; though he had the worst tricks with him that ever man imagined; and has done me many a rascally turn—He's barely twenty-seven, it seems; that's your own age; who would have thought you were born in one year!"
I confess this blow was greater to me than the shock of Mrs. Linton's death: ancient associations lingered round my heart; I sat down in the porch, and wept as for a blood relation, desiring Kenneth to get another servant to introduce him to the master.
I could not hinder myself from pondering on the question—"Had he had fair play?" Whatever I did that idea would bother me: it was so tiresomely pertinacious that I resolved on requesting leave to go to Wuthering Heights,
