stood on the hearth, with folded arms brooding on his evil thoughts; and in this position I left them, to seek the master who was wondering what kept Catherine below so long.
"Ellen," said he, when I entered, "have you seen your mistress?"
"Yes, she's in the kitchen, sir," I answered. "She's sadly put out by Mr. Heathcliff's behaviour: and, indeed, I do think it's time to arrange his visits on another footing. There's harm in being too soft, and now it's come to this—." And I related the scene in the court, and, as near as I dared, the whole subsequent dispute. I fancied it could not be very prejucial to Mrs. Linton, unless she made it so, afterwards, by assuming the defensive for her guest.
Edgar Linton had difficulty in hearing me to the close—His first words revealed that he did not clear his wife of blame.
"This is insufferable!" he exclaimed. "It is disgraceful that she should own him for a
