wrought in
the appearance of each. Catherine had reached her full height; her
figure was both plump and slender, elastic as steel, and her whole aspect
sparkling with health and spirits. Linton's looks and movements were
very languid, and his form extremely slight; but there was a grace in his
manner that mitigated these defects, and rendered him not unpleasing.
After exchanging numerous marks of fondness with him, his cousin went to
Mr. Heathcliff, who lingered by the door, dividing his attention between
the objects inside and those that lay without: pretending, that is, to
observe the latter, and really noting the former alone.

'And you are my uncle, then!' she cried, reaching up to salute him. 'I
thought I liked you, though you were cross at first. Why don't you visit
at the Grange with Linton? To live all these years such close
neighbours, and never see us, is odd: what have you done so for?'

'I visited it once or twice too often before you were born,' he answered.
'There--damn it! If you have any kisses to spare, give them to Linton:
they are thrown away on me.'

'Naughty Ellen!' exclaimed Catherine, flying to attack me next with her
lavish caresses. 'Wicked Ellen! to try to hinder me from entering. But
I'll take this walk every morning in future: may I, uncle? and sometimes
bring papa. Won't you be glad to see us?'

'Of course,' replied the uncle, with a hardly suppressed grimace,
resulting from his deep aversion to both the proposed visitors. 'But
stay,' he continued, turning towards the young lady. 'Now I think of it,
I'd better tell you. Mr. Linton has a prejudice against me: we
quarrelled at one time of our lives, with unchristian ferocity; and, if
you mention coming here to him, he'll put a veto on your visits
altogether. Therefore, you must not mention it, unless you be careless
of seeing your cousin hereafter: you may come, if you will, but you must
not mention it.'

'Why did you quarrel?' asked Catherine, considerably crestfallen.

'He thought me too poor to wed his sister,' answered Heathcliff, 'and was
grieved that I got her: his pride was hurt, and he'll never forgive it.'

'That's wrong!' said the young lady: 'some time I'll tell him so. But
Linton and I have no share in your quarrel. I'll not come here, then; he
shall come to the Grange.'

'It will be too far for me,' murmured her cousin: 'to walk four miles
would kill me. No, come here, Miss Catherine, now and then: not ever