ON THE MORROW of that Monday, Earnshaw being still unable to follow his ordinary employments, and therefore remaining about the house, I speedily found it would be impracticable to retain my charge beside me, as heretofore. She got downstairs before me, and out into the garden, where she had seen her cousin performing some easy work; and when I went to bid them come to breakfast, I saw she had persuaded him to clear a large space of ground from currant and gooseberry bushes, and they were busy planning together an importation of plants from the Grange.

      I was terrified at the devastation which had been accomplished in a brief half-hour; the black currant trees were the apple of Joseph’s eye, and she had just fixed her choice of a flower-bed in the midst of them.

      “There! That will be all shown to the master,” I exclaimed, “the minute it is discovered. And what excuse have you to offer for taking such liberties with the garden? We shall have a fine explosion on the head of it: see if we don’t! Mr. Hareton, I wonder you should have no more wit, than to go and make that mess at her bidding!”

      “I’d forgotten they were Joseph’s,” answered Earnshaw, rather puzzled; “but I’ll tell him I did it.”

      We always ate our meals with Mr. Heathcliff. I held the mistress’s post in making tea and carving; so I was indispensable at table. Catherine usually sat by me, but to-day she stole nearer to Hareton; and I presently saw she would have no more discretion in her friendship than she had in her hostility.

      “Now, mind you don’t talk with and notice your cousin too much,” were my whispered instructions as we entered the room. “It will certainly annoy Mr. Heathcliff, and he’ll be mad at you both.”

      “I’m not going to,” she answered.

      The minute after, she had sidled to him, and was sticking primroses in his plate of porridge.

      He dared not speak to her there: he dared hardly look; and yet she went on tearing till he was twice on the point of being provoked to laugh. I frowned, and then she glanced toward the master: whose mind was occupied on other subjects than his company, as his countenance evinced; and she grew serious for an instant, scrutinising him with deep gravity. Afterwards she turned, and recommenced her nonsense; at last, Hareton uttered a smothered laugh. Mr. Heathcliff started; his eye rapidly surveyed our faces. Catherine met it with her accustomed look of nervousness and yet defiance, which he abhorred.

      “It is well you are out of my reach,” he exclaimed. “What fiend possesses you to stare back at me, continually, with those infernal eyes? Down with them! and don’t remind me of your existence again. I thought I had cured you of laughing.”

      “It was me,” muttered Hareton.

      “What do you say?” demanded the master.

      Hareton looked at his plate, and did not repeat the confession. Mr. Heathcliff looked at him a bit, and then silently resumed his breakfast and his interrupted musing. We had nearly finished, and the two young people prudently shifted wider asunder, so I anticipated no further disturbance during that sitting: when Joseph appeared at the door, revealing by his quivering lip and furious eyes, that the outrage committed on his precious shrubs was detected. He must have seen Cathy and her cousin about the spot before he examined it, for while his jaws worked like those of a cow chewing its cud, and rendered his speech difficult to understand, he began:

      “I mun hey my wage, and I mun goa! I hed aimed to dee, wheare I’d sarved fur sixty year; and I thowt I’d lug my books up into t’ garret, and all my bits o’ stuff, and they sud hev t’ kitchen to theirseln; for t’ sake o’ quietness. It were hard to gie up my awn hearthstun, but I thowt I could do that! But, nab, shoo’s taan my garden fro’ me, and by th’ heart, maister, I cannot stand it! Yah may bend to th’ yoak, and ye will—I noan used to ‘t, and an old man doesn’t sooin get used to new barthens. I’d rayther arn my bite and my sup wi’ a hammer in th’ road!”

      “Now, now, idiot!” interrupted Heathcliff, “cut it short! What’s your grievance? I’ll interfere in no quarrels between you and Nelly. She may thrust you into the coalhole for anything I care.”

      “It’s noan Nelly!” answered Joseph. “I sudn’t shift for Nelly—nasty ill nowt as shoo is. Thank God! shoo cannot stale t’ sowl o’ nob’dy! Shoo were niver soa handsome, but what a body mud look at her ‘bout winking. It’s yon flaysome, graceless quean, that’s witched our lad, wi’ her bold een and her forrard ways—till—Nay! it fair bursts my heart! He’s forgotten all I’ve done for him, and made on him, and goan and riven up a whole row o’ t’ grandest currant trees, i’ t’ garden!” And here he lamented outright; unmanned by a sense of his bitter injuries, and Earnshaw’s ingratitude and dangerous condition.

      “Is the fool drunk?” asked Mr. Heathcliff, “Hareton, is it you he’s finding fault with?”

      “I’ve pulled up two or three bushes,” replied the young man; “but I’m going to set ‘em again.”

      “And why have you pulled them up?” said the master.

      Catherine wisely put in her tongue.

      “We wanted to plant some flowers there,” she cried. “I’m the only person to blame, for I wished him to do it.”

      “And who the devil gave you leave to touch a stick about the place?” demanded her father-in-law, much surprised. “And who ordered you to obey her?” he added, turning to Hareton.

      The latter was speechless; his cousin replied:

      “You shouldn’t grudge a few yards of earth for me to ornament, when you have taken all my land!”

      “Your land, insolent slut! You never had any,” said Heathcliff.

      “And my money,” she continued; returning his angry glare, and meantime biting a piece of crust, the remnant of her breakfast.

      “Silence!” he exclaimed. “Get done, and begone!”

      “And Hareton’s land, and his money,” pursued the reckless thing. “Hareton and I are friends now; and I shall tell him all about you!”

      The master seemed confounded a moment: he grew pale, and rose up, eyeing her all the while, with an expression of mortal hate.

      “If you strike me, Hareton will strike you,” she said; “so you may as well sit down.”

      “If Hareton does not turn you out of the room, I’ll strike him to hell,” thundered Heathcliff. “Damnable witch! dare you pretend to rouse him against me? Off with her! Do you hear? Fling her into the kitchen! I’ll kill her, Ellen Dean, if you let her come into my sight again!”

      Hareton tried, under his breath, to persuade her to go.

      “Drag her away!” he cried savagely. “Are you staying to talk?” And he approached to execute his own command.

      “He’ll