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That noon, he sat down to dinner with us, and received a
heaped-up plate from my hands, as if he intended to make amends
for previous fasting.

“I’ve neither cold nor fever, Nelly,” he remarked, in allusion to
my morning’s speech; “and I’m ready to do justice to the food you
give me.”

He took his knife and fork, and was going to commence eating,
when the inclination appeared to become suddenly extinct. He
laid them on the table, looked eagerly towards the window, then
rose and went out.

We saw him walking to and fro in the garden while we
concluded our meal; and Earnshaw said he’d go and ask why he
would not dine: he thought we had grieved him some way.

“Well, is he coming?” cried Catherine, when her cousin

“Nay,” he answered; “but he’s not angry: he seemed rare and
pleased indeed; only, I made him impatient by speaking to him
twice; and then he bid me be off to you: he wondered how I could
want the company of anybody else.”

I set his plate to keep warm on the fender; and after an hour or
two he re-entered, when the room was clear, in no degree
calmer--the same unnatural--it was unnatural--appearance of
joy under his black brows; the same bloodless hue; and his teeth
visible, now and then, in a kind of smile; his frame shivering, not
as one shivers with chill or weakness, but as a tight-stretched cord
vibrates--a strong thrilling, rather than trembling.

I will ask what is the matter, I thought; or who should? And I
exclaimed--“Have you heard any good news, Mr. Heathcliff? You
look uncommonly animated.”

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