boy!’ he exclaimed, with assumed heartiness.

‘Away after them! they are just at the corner, by the stand of hives.’

Linton gathered his energies, and left the hearth. The lattice was open, and, as he stepped out, I heard Cathy inquiring of her unsociable attendant what was that inscription over the door? Hareton stared up, and scratched his head like a true clown.

‘It’s some damnable writing,’ he answered. ‘I cannot read it.’

‘Can’t read it?’ cried Catherine; ‘I can read it: it’s English. But I want to know why it is there.’

Linton giggled: the first appearance of mirth he had exhibited.