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She hadn't used to. Jerry couldn't figure out what had gotten into Cathy lately. All this caring about how she looked. All this fussing about clothes. And the way she blinked her eyes at boys. It was enough to make a person sick. Less than a year ago he had heard Cathy say that girls who used powder and lipstick were dopes. Now she herself was carrying a lipstick in her handbag.
Honora sat up in bed, shivering with cold and delight. "Is it awake ye are, darlint, and it but four o'clock the morn!" "What are you doing, Cathy?" "Musha, it's to Mass I'm going, to ask the Mother of God to give ye many happy Christmases the like of this, Miss Honora." And Catherine's arms were about her. "Oh, it's Christmas, Cathy, isn't it? How could I have forgotten it!"
The tears gushed from Linton's eyes as he answered, 'Yes, yes, I am! And, still under the spell of the imaginary voice, his gaze wandered up and down to detect its owner. Cathy rose. 'For to-day we must part, she said. 'And I won't conceal that I have been sadly disappointed with our meeting; though I'll mention it to nobody but you: not that I stand in awe of Mr. Heathcliff.
'It is too hot for walking, let us rest here. And, in the morning, I often feel sick papa says I grow so fast. Badly satisfied, Cathy sat down, and he reclined beside her. 'This is something like your paradise, said she, making an effort at cheerfulness. 'You recollect the two days we agreed to spend in the place and way each thought pleasantest?
'Yes; and her husband was her cousin also: one on the mother's, the other on the father's side: Heathcliff married Mr. Linton's sister. 'I see the house at Wuthering Heights has "Earnshaw" carved over the front door. Are they an old family? 'Very old, sir; and Hareton is the last of them, as our Miss Cathy is of us I mean, of the Lintons. Have you been to Wuthering Heights?
Hareton and the woman laughed, and she joined them, and waxed more impertinent still; till I cried, in great irritation, 'Well, Miss Cathy, if you were aware whose house this is you'd be glad enough to get out. 'It's your father's, isn't it? said she, turning to Hareton. 'Nay, he replied, looking down, and blushing bashfully.
Ellen, I've been very happy with my little Cathy: through winter nights and summer days she was a living hope at my side. But I've been as happy musing by myself among those stones, under that old church: lying, through the long June evenings, on the green mound of her mother's grave, and wishing yearning for the time when I might lie beneath it. What can I do for Cathy? How must I quit her?
I explained how he objected to the whole household at the Heights, and how sorry he would be to find she had been there; but I insisted most on the fact, that if she revealed my negligence of his orders, he would perhaps be so angry that I should have to leave; and Cathy couldn't bear that prospect: she pledged her word, and kept it for my sake. After all, she was a sweet little girl.
Miss Cathy conversant with no bad deeds except her own slight acts of disobedience, injustice, and passion, arising from hot temper and thoughtlessness, and repented of on the day they were committed was amazed at the blackness of spirit that could brood on and cover revenge for years, and deliberately prosecute its plans without a visitation of remorse.
"You're a Victoria Cross heroine, dear," said Cathy warmly. "You ought to have a statue put up to you." "It would come alive if you put it here," said Gerald grimly. "I shouldn't have been afraid," said Jimmy. "By daylight," Gerald assured him, "everything looks so jolly different."
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