Wuthering Heights

unsociable meal, seasoned with reproofs on one side and sauciness on
the other. His cake and cheese remained on the table all night for the
fairies. He managed to continue work till nine o’clock, and then
marched dumb and dour to his chamber. Cathy sat up late, having a world
of things to order for the reception of her new friends: she came into
the kitchen once to speak to her old one; but he was gone, and she only
stayed to ask what was the matter with him, and then went back. In the
morning he rose early; and, as it was a holiday, carried his ill-humour
on to the moors; not re-appearing till the family were departed for
church. Fasting and reflection seemed to have brought him to a better
spirit. He hung about me for a while, and having screwed up his
courage, exclaimed abruptly—“Nelly, make me decent, I’m going to be
good.”

“High time, Heathcliff,” I said; “you _have_ grieved Catherine: she’s
sorry she ever came home, I daresay! It looks as if you envied her,
because she is more thought of than you.”

The notion of _envying_ Catherine was incomprehensible to him, but the
notion of grieving her he understood clearly enough.

“Did she say she was grieved?” he inquired, looking very serious.