Wuthering Heights

tried to wait patiently; but that was impossible; she couldn't be still a minute.
    »How long they are!« she exclaimed. »Ah, I see some dust on the road – they are coming! No! When will they be here? May we not go a little way – half a mile, Ellen, only just half a mile? Do say yes, to that clump of birches at the turn!«
    I refused staunchily: and, at length, her suspense was ended: the travelling carriage rolled in sight.
    Miss Cathy shrieked, and stretched out her arms, as soon as she caught her father's face, looking from the window. He descended, nearly as eager as herself; and a considerable interval elapsed, ere they had a thought to spare for any but themselves.
    While they exchanged caresses, I took a peep in to see after Linton. He was asleep, in a corner, wrapped in a warm, fur-lined cloak, as if it had been winter. A pale, delicate, effeminate boy, who might have been taken for my master's younger brother, so strong was the resemblance, but there was a sickly peevishness in his aspect, that Edgar Linton never had.
    The latter saw me looking; and having shaken hands, advised me to close the door, and leave him undisturbed; for the journey had fatigued him.
    Cathy would fain have taken one glance; but her father told her to come on, and they walked together up the park, while I hastened before, to prepare the servants.
    »Now, darling,« said Mr. Linton, addressing his daughter, as they halted at the bottom of the front steps. »Your cousin is not so strong, or so merry as you are, and he has lost his mother, remember, a very short time since, therefore, don't expect him to play, and run about with you directly. And don't harass him much by talking – let him be quiet this evening, at least, will you?«
    »Yes, yes, papa,« answered Catherine; »but I do want to see him; and he hasn't once looked out.«
    The carriage stopped; and the sleeper, being roused, was lifted to the ground by his uncle.
    »This is your cousin Cathy, Linton,« he said, putting their little hands together. »She's fond of you already; and mind you don't grieve her by crying to-night. Try to be cheerful now; the travelling is at an end, and you have nothing to do but rest and amuse yourself as you please.«
    »Let me go to bed then,« answered the boy, shrinking from Catherine's salute; and he put his fingers to his eyes to remove incipient tears.
    »Come, come, there's a good child,« I whispered, leading him in. »You'll make her weep too – see how sorry she is for you!«
    I do not know whether it were sorrow for him, but his cousin put on as sad a countenance as himself, and returned to her father. All three entered, and mounted to the library where tea was laid ready.
    I proceeded to remove Linton's cap, and mantle, and placed him on a chair by the table; but he was no sooner seated than he began to cry afresh. My master inquired what was the matter.
    »I can't sit on a chair,« sobbed the boy.
    »Go to the sofa then; and Ellen shall bring you some tea,« answered his uncle, patiently.
    He had been greatly tried during the journey, I felt convinced, by his fretful, ailing charge.
    Linton slowly trailed himself off, and lay down. Cathy carried a foot-stool and her cup to his side.
    At first she sat silent; but that could not last; she had resolved to make a pet of her little cousin, as she would have him to be; and she commenced stroking his curls, and kissing his cheek, and offering him tea in her saucer, like a baby. This pleased him, for he was not much better; he dried his eyes, and lightened into a faint smile.
    »Oh, he'll do very well,« said the master to me, after watching them a minute. »Very well, if we can keep him, Ellen. The company of a child of his own age will instil new spirit into him soon: and by wishing for strength he'll gain it.«
    »Aye, if we can keep him!« I mused to myself; and sore misgivings came over me that there was slight hope of that. And then, I thought, however will that weakling live at Wuthering Heights, between his father and Hareton? what playmates and instructors they'll be.
    Our doubts were presently decided; even earlier than I expected. I had just taken the children up stairs, after tea was finished; and seen Linton asleep – he would not suffer me to leave him, till that was the case – I had come down, and was standing by the table in the hall, lighting a bedroom candle for Mr. Edgar, when a maid stepped out of the kitchen, and informed me that Mr. Heathcliff's servant,