I shall have naught to do wi' you and your mucky pride, and your damned mocking tricks!' he answered. `I'll go to hell, body and soul, before I look sideways after you again. Side out O' t' gait, now; this minute!'
Catherine frowned, and retreated to the window-seat chewing her lip, and endeavouring, by humming an eccentric tune, to conceal a growing tendency to sob.
`You should be friends with your cousin, Mr Hareton,' I interrupted, `since she repents of her sauciness. It would do you a great deal of good: it would make you another man to have her for a companion.'
`A companion?' he cried; `when she hates me, and does not think me fit to wipe her shoon! Nay! if it made me a king, I'd not be scorned for seeking her goodwill any more.'
`It is not I who hate you, it is you who hate me!' wept Cathy, no longer disguising her trouble. `You hate me as much as Mr Heathcliff does, and more.'
`You're a damned liar,' began Earnshaw: `why have I made him angry, by taking your part, then, a hundred times? and that when you sneered at and despised me, and--Go on plaguing me, and I'll step in yonder, and say you worried me out of the kitchen!'
`I didn't know you took my part,' she answered, drying her eyes; `and I was miserable and bitter at everybody; but now I thank you, and beg you to forgive me: what can I do besides?'
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