Wuthering Heights

apparently put some question which she had no mind to answer. There was
another rapid glance at the house, and supposing himself unseen, the
scoundrel had the impudence to embrace her.

“Judas! Traitor!” I ejaculated. “You are a hypocrite, too, are you? A
deliberate deceiver.”

“Who is, Nelly?” said Catherine’s voice at my elbow: I had been
over-intent on watching the pair outside to mark her entrance.

“Your worthless friend!” I answered, warmly: “the sneaking rascal
yonder. Ah, he has caught a glimpse of us—he is coming in! I wonder
will he have the heart to find a plausible excuse for making love to
Miss, when he told you he hated her?”

Mrs. Linton saw Isabella tear herself free, and run into the garden;
and a minute after, Heathcliff opened the door. I couldn’t withhold
giving some loose to my indignation; but Catherine angrily insisted on
silence, and threatened to order me out of the kitchen, if I dared to
be so presumptuous as to put in my insolent tongue.

“To hear you, people might think you were the mistress!” she cried.
“You want setting down in your right place! Heathcliff, what are you
about, raising this stir? I said you must let Isabella alone!—I beg you