Wuthering Heights

you can.«
    He watched the couple walking past the window. Earnshaw had his countenance completely averted from his companion. He seemed studying the familiar landscape with a stranger's, and an artist's interest.
    Catherine took a sly look at him, expressing small admiration. She then turned her attention to seeking out objects of amusement for herself, and tripped merrily on, lilting a tune to supply the lack of conversation.
    »I have tied his tongue,« observed Heathcliff. »He'll not venture a single syllable, all the time! Nelly, you recollect me at his age – nay, some years younger – Did I ever look so stupid, so ›gaumless,‹ as Joseph calls it?«
    »Worse,« I replied, »because more sullen with it.«
    »I've a pleasure in him!« he continued reflecting aloud. »He has satisfied my expectations – If he were a born fool I should not enjoy it half so much – But he's no fool; and I can sympathize with all his feelings, having felt them myself – I know what he suffers now, for instance, exactly – it is merely a beginning of what he shall suffer, though. And he'll never be able to emerge from his bathos of coarseness, and ignorance. I've got him faster than his scoundrel of a father secured me, and lower; for he takes a pride in his brutishness. I've taught him to scorn everything, extra-animal, as silly and weak – Don't you think Hindley would be proud of his son, if he could see him? almost as proud as I am of mine – But there's this difference, one is gold put to the use of paving stones; and the other is tin polished to ape a service of silver –
Mine
has nothing valuable about it; yet I shall have the merit, of making it go as far as such poor stuff can go.
His
had first-rate qualities, and they are lost – rendered worse than unavailing – I have nothing to regret; he would have more than any, but I, are aware of – And the best of it is, Hareton is damnably fond of me! You'll own that I've out-matched Hindley there – If the dead villain could rise from his grave to abuse me for his offspring's wrongs, I should have the fun of seeing the said offspring fight him back again, indignant that he should dare to rail at the one friend he has in the world!«
    Heathcliff chuckled a fiendish laugh at the idea; I made no reply, because I saw that he expected none.
    Meantime, our young companion, who sat too removed from us to hear what was said, began to evince symptoms of uneasiness: probably repenting that he had denied himself the treat of Catherine's society, for fear of a little fatigue.
    His father remarked the restless glances wandering to the window, and the hand irresolutely extended towards his cap.
    »Get up, you idle boy!« he exclaimed with assumed heartiness. »Away after them ... they are just at the corner, by the stand of hives.«
    Linton gathered his energies, and left the hearth. The lattice was open and, as he stepped out, I heard Cathy inquiring of her unsociable attendant, what was that inscription over the door?
    Hareton stared up, and scratched his head like a true clown.
    »It's some damnable writing;« he answered. »I cannot read it.«
    »Can't read it?« cried Catherine, »I can read it ... It's English ... but I want to know, why it is there.«
    Linton giggled – the first appearance of mirth he had exhibited.
    »He does not know his letters,« he said to his cousin. »Could you believe in the existence of such a colossal dunce?«
    »Is he all as he should be?« asked Miss Cathy seriously, »or is he simple ... not right? I've questioned him twice now, and each time he looked so stupid, I think he does not understand me; I can hardly understand
him
I'm sure!«
    Linton repeated his laugh, and glanced at Hareton tauntingly, who certainly, did not seem quite clear of comprehension at that moment.
    »There's nothing the matter, but laziness, is there, Earnshaw?« he said. »My cousin fancies you are an idiot ... There you experience the consequence of scorning ›book-larning,‹ as you would say ... Have you noticed, Catherine, his frightful Yorkshire pronunciation?«
    »Why, where the devil is the use on't?« growled Hareton, more ready in answering his daily companion. He was about to enlarge further, but the two youngsters broke into a noisy fit of merriment; my giddy Miss being delighted to discover that she might turn his strange talk to matter of amusement.
    »Where is the use of the devil in that sentence?« tittered Linton. »Papa told you not to say any bad