Wuthering Heights / Грозовой перевал. Уровень 3

'Look at the almanack on that wall;' he pointed to a framed sheet hanging near the window, and continued, 'The crosses are for the evenings you have spent with the Lintons, the dots for those spent with me. Do you see? I've marked every day.'

'Yes – very foolish!' replied Catherine, in a peevish tone. 'And where is the sense of that?'

'To show that I take notice,' said Heathcliff.

'Must I always sit with you?' she demanded, growing more irritated. 'What good do I get? What do you talk about? You might be dumb, or a baby, for anything you say to amuse me, or for anything you do, either!'

'You never told me before that I talked too little, or that you disliked my company, Cathy!' exclaimed Heathcliff, in much agitation.

'It's no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,' she muttered.

Her companion rose up, but he didn't have time to express his feelings further, for young

Linton entered, his face brilliant with delight. Doubtless Catherine marked the difference between her friends, as one came in and the other went out.

The contrast between their appearance and speech was like between a bleak, hilly, coal country and a beautiful fertile valley. Mr. Earnshaw gave me orders not to leave the two alone, so I refused to go. Then Catherine tried to get rid of me, and she stamped her foot, and I went away, shaken.

Little Hareton, who followed me everywhere, and was sitting near me on the floor. He saw my tears and started crying himself. He sobbed out complaints against 'wicked aunt Cathy'.

Cathy drew her fury on to his unlucky head: she seized his shoulders, and shook him till the poor child waxed livid, and Edgar thoughtlessly laid hold of her hands to deliver him. In an instant she turned and slapped him on his ear. The insulted visitor was going to leave, but Catherine then sobbed so dreadfully that he stayed. And, after a while, I saw the quarrel effected a closer intimacy: they forgot of friendship, and confessed themselves lovers.

Chapter IX

When Hindley arrived, I tried to conceal little Hareton, because his father might kiss him to death or to throw in the fire.

But he saw me, and took the child from me.

Poor Hareton was squalling and kicking in his father's arms with all his might, and redoubled his yells when he carried him upstairs and lifted him over the banister. As I reached them, Hindley leant forward on the rails to listen to a noise below. He almost forgot what he had in his hands.