erally sat
in the house then, after their work was done). Miss Cathy had been sick,
and that made her still; she leant against her father's knee, and
Heathcliff was lying on the floor with his head in her lap. 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?' But
as soon as she saw him vexed again, she kissed his hand, and said she
would sing him to sleep. She began singing very low, till his fingers
dropped from hers, and his head sank on his breast. Then I told her to
hush, and not stir, for fear she should wake him. We all kept as mute as
mice a full half-hour, and should have done so longer, only Joseph,
having finished his chapter, got up and said that he must rouse the
master for prayers and bed. He stepped forward, and called him by name,
and touched his shoulder; but he would not move: so he took the candle
and looked at him. I thought there was something wrong as he set down
the light; and seizing the children each by an arm, whispered them to
'frame up-stairs, and make little din--they might pray alone that
evening--he had summut to do.'

'I shall bid father good-night first,' said Catherine, putting her arms
round his neck, before we could hinder her. The poor thing discovered
her loss directly--she screamed out--'Oh, he's dead, Heathcliff! he's
dead!' And they both set up a heart-breaking cry.

I joined my wail to theirs, loud and bitter; but Joseph asked what we
could be thinking of to roar in that way over a saint in heaven. He told
me to put on my cloak and run to Gimmerton for the doctor and the parson.
I could not guess the use that either would be of, then. However, I
went, through wind and rain, and brought one, the doctor, back with me;
the other said he would come in the morning. Leaving Joseph to explain
matters, I ran to the children's room: their door was ajar, I saw they
had never lain down, though it was past midnight; but they were calmer,
and did not need me to console them. The little souls were comforting
each other with better thoughts than I could have hit on: no parson in
the world ever pictured heaven so beautifully as they did, in their
innocent talk; and, while I sobbed and listened, I could not help wishing
we were all there safe tog