“What is that apathetic being doing?' she demanded, pushing the thick entangled locks from her wasted face. 'Has he fallen into a lethargy, or is he dead?”

“Yet I was a fool to fancy for a moment that she valued Edgar Linton's attachment more than mine -- If he love with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years, as I could in a day. And Catherine has a heart as deep as I have; the sea could be as readily contained in that horse-trough, as her whole affection be monopolized by him -- Tush! He is scarcely a degree dearer to her than her dog, or her horse -- It is not in him to be loved like me, how can she love in him what he has not?”

“It is not in him to be loved like me: how can she love in him what he has not?”

“You talk of her mind being unsettled. How the devil could it be otherwise in her frightful isolation? And that insipid, paltry creature attending her from duty and humanity ! From pity and charity ! He might as well plant an oak in a flower-pot, and expect it to thrive, as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow cares!”

“But no brutality disgusted her: I suppose she has an innate admiration for it, if only her precious person were secure from injury!”

“She's fainted, or dead,' I thought: 'so much the better. Far betterthat she should be dead, than lingering a burden and a misery-maker toall about her.”

“I remember the master, before he fell into a doze, stroking her bonny hair - it pleased him rarely to see her gentle - and saying - 'Why canst thou not always be a good lass, Cathy?' And she turned her face up to his, and laughed, and answered, 'Why cannot you always be a good man, father?”