Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers
once, if she be able, and carry a message from me, that her young
lady will follow in time to attend the squire’s funeral.’”
“Mr. Edgar is not dead?” I gasped. “Oh! Zillah, Zillah!”
“No, no--sit you down, my good mistress,” she replied, “you’re
right sickly yet. He’s not dead; Doctor Kenneth thinks he may last
another day. I met him on the road and asked.”
Instead of sitting down, I snatched my outdoor things, and
hastened below, for the way was free.
On entering the house, I looked about for some one to give
information of Catherine. The place was filled with sunshine, and
the door stood wide open; but nobody seemed at hand. As I
hesitated whether to go off at once, or return and seek my
mistress, a slight cough drew my attention to the hearth.
Linton lay on the settle, sole tenant, sucking a stick of sugar-
candy, and pursuing my movements with apathetic eyes.
“Where is Miss Catherine?” I demanded sternly, supposing I
could frighten him into giving intelligence, by catching him thus,
alone. He sucked on like an innocent.
“Is she gone?” I said.
“No,” he replied; “she’s upstairs: she’s not to go; we won’t let
“You won’t let her, little idiot!” I exclaimed. “Direct me to her
room immediately, or I’ll make you sing out sharply.”
“Papa would make you sing out, if you attempted to get there,”
he answered. “He says I’m not to be soft with Catherine--she’s my
wife, and it’s shameful that she should wish to leave me. He says
she hates me, and wants me to die, that she may have my money;
but she shan’t have it; and she shan’t go home! She never shall!--
she may cry, and be sick as much as she pleases!”