Wuthering Heights

together.
    Master Heathcliff received us with greater animation on this occasion; not the animation of high spirits though, nor yet of joy; it looked more like fear.
    »It is late!« he said, speaking short, and with difficulty. »Is not your father very ill? I thought you wouldn't come.«
    »
Why
won't you be candid?« cried Catherine, swallowing her greeting. »Why cannot you say at once, you don't want me? It is strange Linton, that for the second time, you have brought me here on purpose, apparently, to distress us both, and for no reason besides!«
    Linton shivered, and glanced at her, half supplicating, half ashamed, but his cousin's patience was not sufficient to endure this enigmatical behaviour.
    »My father
is
very ill,« she said, »and why am I called from his bedside – why didn't you send to absolve me from my promise, when you wished I wouldn't keep it? Come! I desire an explanation – playing and trifling are completely banished out of my mind: and I can't dance attendance on your affectations, now!«
    »My affectations!« he murmured, »what are they? For Heaven's sake Catherine, don't look so angry! Despise me as much as you please; I am a worthless, cowardly wretch – I can't be scorned enough! but I'm too mean for your anger – hate my father, and spare me, for contempt!«
    »Nonsense!« cried Catherine in a passion. »Foolish, silly boy! And there! he trembles, as if I were really going to touch him! You needn't bespeak contempt, Linton; anybody will have it spontaneously, at your service. Get off! I shall return home – it is folly dragging you from the hearthstone, and pretending – what do we pretend? Let go my frock – if I pitied you for crying, and looking so very frightened, you should spurn such pity! Ellen, tell him how disgraceful this conduct is. Rise, and don't degrade yourself into an abject reptile –
don't.
«
    With streaming face and an expression of agony, Linton had thrown his nerveless frame along the ground; he seemed convulsed with exquisite terror.
    »Oh!« he sobbed, »I cannot bear it! Catherine, Catherine, I'm a traitor too, and I dare not tell you! But leave me and I shall be killed!
Dear
Catherine, my life is in your hands; and you have said you loved me – and if you did, it wouldn't harm you. You'll not go, then? kind, sweet, good Catherine! And perhaps you
will
consent – and he'll let me die with you!«
    My young lady, on witnessing his intense anguish, stooped to raise him. The old feeling of indulgent tenderness overcame her vexation, and she grew thoroughly moved and alarmed.
    »Consent to what?« she asked. »To stay? Tell me the meaning of this strange talk, and I will. You contradict your own words, and distract me! Be calm and frank, and confess at once, all that weighs on your heart. You wouldn't injure me, Linton, would you? You wouldn't let any enemy hurt me, if you could prevent it? I'll believe you are a coward, for yourself, but not a cowardly betrayer of your best friend.«
    »But my father threatened me,« gasped the boy, clasping his attenuated fingers, »and I dread him – I dread him! I
dare
not tell!«
    »Oh well!« said Catherine, with scornful compassion, »keep your secret,
I'm
no coward – save yourself, I'm not afraid!«
    Her magnanimity provoked his tears; he wept wildly, kissing her supporting hands, and yet could not summon courage to speak out.
    I was cogitating what the mystery might be, and determined Catherine should never suffer to benefit him or anyone else, by my good will. When hearing a rustle among the ling, I looked up, and saw Mr. Heathcliff almost close upon us, descending the Heights. He didn't cast a glance towards my companions, though they were sufficiently near for Linton's sobs to be audible; but hailing me in the almost hearty tone he assumed to none besides, and the sincerity of which, I couldn't avoid doubting, he said.
    »It is something to see you so near to my house, Nelly! How are you at the Grange? Let us hear! The rumour goes,« he added in a lower tone, »that Edgar Linton is on his death-bed – perhaps they exaggerate his illness?«
    »No; my master is dying,« I replied, »it is true enough. A sad thing it will be for us all, but a blessing for him!«
    »How long will he last, do you think?« he asked.
    »I don't know,« I said.
    »Because,« he continued, looking at the two young people, who were fixed under his eye – Linton appeared as if he could not venture to stir, or raise his head, and