have wakened him—I sent for Kenneth, and he came; but not till the beast had changed into carrion—he was both dead and cold, and stark; and so you'll allow, it was useless making more stir about him!"
The old servant confirmed this statement, but muttered,
"Aw'd rayther he'd goan hisseln fur t'doctor! Aw sud uh taen tent uh t'maister better nur him—un he warn't deead when Aw left, nowt uh t'soart!"
I insisted on the funeral being respectable—Mr. Heathcliff said I might have my own way there too; only, he desired me to remember, that the money for the whole affair came out of his pocket.
He maintained a hard, careless deportment, indicative of neither joy nor sorrow; if anything, it expressed a flinty gratification at a piece of difficult work, successfully executed, I observed once, indeed, something like exultation in his aspect. It was just when the
