"Yes, Miss," I replied.
She entered and approached the hearth. I, supposing she was going to say something, looked up. The expression of her face seemed disturbed and anxious. Her lips were half asunder as if she meant to speak; and she drew a breath, but it escaped in a sigh, instead of a sentence.
I resumed my song: not having forgotten her recent behaviour.
"Where's Heathcliff?" she said, interrupting me.
"About his work in the stable," was my answer.
He did not contradict me; perhaps, he had fallen into a dose.
There followed another long pause, during which I perceived a drop or two trickle from Catherine's cheek to the flags.
Is she sorry for her shameful conduct? I asked myself. That will be a novelty, but, she may come to the point as she will—I shan't help her!
