the letter and flung it on the floor beside her, as ungraciously as he could. Catherine caught and perused it eagerly; then she but a few questions to me concerning the inmates, rational and irrational, of her former home; and gazing towards the hills, murmured in soliloquy:
`I should like to be riding Minny down there! I should like to be climbing up there! Oh! I'm tired--I'm stalled, Hareton!' And she leant her pretty head back against the sill, with half a yawn and half a sigh, and lapsed into an aspect of abstracted sadness: neither caring nor knowing whether we remarked her.
`Mrs Heathcliff,' I said, after sitting some time mute, `you are not aware that I am an acquaintance of yours? so intimate that I think it strange you won't come and speak to me. My housekeeper never wearies of talking about and praising you; and she'll be greatly disappointed if I return with no news of or from you, except that you received her letter and said nothing!'
She appeared to wonder at this speech, and asked:
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