Wuthering Heights

let us rest here. And, in the morning, I often feel sick – papa says I grow so fast.«
    Badly satisfied, Cathy sat down, and he reclined beside her.
    »This is something like your paradise,« said she, making an effort at cheerfulness. »You recollect the two days we agreed to spend, in the place and way, each thought pleasantest? This is nearly yours, only there are clouds; but then, they are so soft and mellow, it is nicer than sunshine. Next week, if you can, we'll ride down to the Grange Park, and try mine.«
    Linton did not appear to remember what she talked of; and he had evidently great difficulty in sustaining any kind of conversation. His lack of interest in the subjects she started, and his equal incapacity to contribute to her entertainment were so obvious, that she could not conceal her disappointment. An indefinite alteration had come over his whole person and manner. The pettishness that might be caressed into fondness, had yielded to a listless apathy; there was less of the peevish temper of a child which frets and teases on purpose to be soothed, and more of the self-absorbed moroseness of a confirmed invalid, repelling consolation, and ready to regard the good-humoured mirth of others, as an insult.
    Catherine perceived, as well as I did, that he held it rather a punishment, than a gratification, to endure our company; and she made no scruple of proposing, presently, to depart.
    That proposal, unexpectedly, roused Linton from his lethargy, and threw him into a strange state of agitation. He glanced fearfully towards the Heights, begging she would remain another half-hour, at least.
    »But, I think,« said Cathy, »you'd be more comfortable at home than sitting here; and I cannot amuse you to-day, I see, by my tales, and songs, and chatter; you have grown wiser than I, in these six months; you have little taste for my diversions now; or else, if I could amuse you, I'd willingly stay.«
    »Stay to rest yourself,« he replied. »And, Catherine, don't think, or say that I'm
very
unwell – it is the heavy weather, and heat that make me dull; and I walked about, before you came, a great deal, for me. Tell uncle, I'm in tolerable health, will you?«
    »I'll tell him that
you
say so, Linton. I couldn't affirm that you are,« observed my young lady, wondering at his pertinacious assertion of what was evidently an untruth.
    »And be here again next Thursday,« continued he, shunning her puzzled gaze. »And give him my thanks for permitting you to come – my best thanks, Catherine. And – and, if you
did
meet my father, and he asked you about me, don't lead him to suppose that I've been extremely silent and stupid – don't look silent and downcast, as you
are
doing – he'll be angry.«
    »I care nothing for his anger,« exclaimed Cathy, imagining she would be its object.
    »But I do,« said her cousin, shuddering. »
Don't
provoke him against me, Catherine, for he is very hard.«
    »Is he severe to you, Master Heathcliff?« I inquired. »Has he grown weary of indulgence, and passed from passive, to active hatred?«
    Linton looked at me, but did not answer; and, after keeping her seat by his side, another ten minutes, during which his head fell drowsily on his breast, and he uttered nothing except suppressed moans of exhaustion, or pain, Cathy began to seek solace in looking for bilberries, and sharing the produce of her researches with me: she did not offer them to him, for she saw further notice would only weary and annoy.
    »Is it half an hour now, Ellen!« she whispered in my ear, at last. »I can't tell why we should stay. He's asleep, and papa will be wanting us back.«
    »Well, we must not leave him asleep,« I answered; »wait till he wakes and be patient. You are mighty eager to set off, but your longing to see poor Linton has soon evaporated!«
    »Why did
he
wish to see me?« returned Catherine. »In his crossest humours, formerly, I liked him better than I do in his present curious mood. It's just as if it were a task he was compelled to perform – this interview – for fear his father should scold him. But, I'm hardly going to come to give Mr. Heathcliff pleasure; whatever reason he may have for ordering Linton to undergo this penance. And, though I'm glad he's better in health, I'm sorry he's so much less pleasant, and so much less affectionate to me.«
    »You think
he is
better in health, then?« I said.
    »Yes,« she answered; »because he always made such a great deal of his sufferings,