cur that appears to know the kicks it gets are its desert, and yet, hates all the world, as well as the kicker, for what it suffers."
"In other words, I must wish for Edgar Linton's great blue eyes, and even forehead," he replied. "I do—and that wont help me to them."
"A good heart will help 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
