Wuthering Heights

you to a bonny face my lad,« I continued, »if you were a regular black; and a bad one will turn the bonniest into something worse than ugly. And now that we've done washing, and combing, and sulking – tell me whether you don't think yourself rather handsome? I'll tell you, I do. You're fit for a prince in disguise. Who knows, but your father was Emperor of China, and your mother an Indian queen, each of them able to buy up, with one week's income, Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange together? And you were kidnapped by wicked sailors, and brought to England. Were I in your place, I would frame high notions of my birth; and the thoughts of what I was should give me courage and dignity to support the oppressions of a little farmer!«
    So I chattered on; and Heathcliff gradually lost his frown, and began to look quite pleasant; when, all at once, our conversation was interrupted by a rumbling sound moving up the road and entering the court. He ran to the window, and I to the door, just in time to behold the two Lintons descend from the family carriage, smothered in cloaks and furs, and the Earnshaws dismount from their horses – they often rode to church in winter. Catherine took a hand of each of the children, and brought them into the house, and set them before the fire which quickly put colour into their white faces.
    I urged my companion to hasten now, and show his amiable humour; and he willingly obeyed: but ill luck would have it; that as he opened the door leading from the kitchen on one side, Hindley opened it on the other; they met, and the master irritated at seeing him clean and cheerful, or, perhaps, eager to keep his promise to Mrs. Linton shoved him back with a sudden thrust, and angrily bade Joseph »keep the fellow out of the room – send him into the garret till dinner is over. He'll be cramming his fingers in the tarts, and stealing the fruit, if left alone with them a minute.«
    »Nay, sir,« I could not avoid answering, »he'll touch nothing, not he – and, I suppose, he must have his share of the dainties as well as we.«
    »He shall have his share of my hand, if I catch him down stairs again till dark,« cried Hindley. »Begone, you vagabond! What, you are attempting the coxcomb, are you? Wait till I get hold of those elegant locks – see if I won't pull them a bit longer!«
    »They are long enough already,« observed Master Linton, peeping from the door-way, »I wonder they don't make his head ache. It's like a colt's mane over his eyes!«
    He ventured this remark without any intention to insult; but, Heathcliff's violent nature was not prepared to endure the appearance of impertinence from one whom he seemed to hate, even then, as a rival. He seized a tureen of hot applesauce, the first thing that came under his gripe, and dashed it full against the speaker's face and neck – who instantly commenced a lament that brought Isabella and Catherine hurrying to the place.
    Mr. Earnshaw snatched up the culprit directly and conveyed him to his chamber, where, doubtless, he administered a rough remedy to cool the fit of passion, for he reappeared red and breathless. I got the dish-cloth, and, rather spitefully, scrubbed Edgar's nose and mouth, affirming, it served him right for meddling. His sister began weeping to go home, and Cathy stood by confounded, blushing for all.
    »You should not have spoken to him!« she expostulated with Master Linton. »He was in a bad temper, and now you've spoilt your visit, and he'll be flogged – I hate him to be flogged! I can't eat my dinner. Why did you speak to him, Edgar?«
    »I didn't,« sobbed the youth, escaping from my hands, and finishing the remainder of the purification with his cambric pocket-handkerchief. »I promised mamma that I wouldn't say one word to him, and I didn't!«
    »Well, don't cry!« replied Catherine, contemptuously. »You're not killed – don't make more mischief – my brother is coming – be quiet! Give over, Isabella! Has anybody hurt
you?
«
    »There, there, children – to your seats!« cried Hindley, bustling in. »That brute of a lad has warmed me nicely. Next time, Master Edgar, take the law into your own fists – it will give you an appetite!«
    The little party recovered its equanimity at sight of the fragrant feast. They were hungry, after their ride, and easily consoled, since no real harm had befallen them.
    Mr. Earnshaw carved bountiful platefuls; and the mistress made them merry with lively talk. I waited