real, had more power over Heathcliff than his kindness. How the boy would do her bidding in anything, and his only when it suited his own inclination.
After behaving as badly as possible all day, she sometimes came fondling to make it up at night.
"Nay, Cathy," the old man would say, "I cannot love thee; thou'rt worse than thy brother. Go, say thy prayers, child, and ask God's pardon. I doubt thy mother and I must rue that we ever reared thee!"
That made her cry, at first; and then, being repulsed continually hardened her, and she laughed if I told her to say she was sorry for her faults, and beg to be forgiven.
But the hour came, at last, that ended Mr. Earnshaw's troubles on earth. He died quietly in his chair one October evening, seated by the fire-side.
A high wind blustered round the house, and roared in the chimney: it sounded wild and
