to see her gentle - and saying, 'Why canst thou not always be a
good lass, Cathy?' And she turned her face up to his, and laughed,
and answered, 'Why cannot you always be a good man, father?' But
as soon as she saw him vexed again, she kissed his hand, and said
she would sing him to sleep. She began singing very low, till his
fingers dropped from hers, and his head sank on his breast. Then I
told her to hush, and not stir, for fear she should wake him. We
all kept as mute as mice a full half-hour, and should have done so
longer, only Joseph, having finished his chapter, got up and said
that he must rouse the master for prayers and bed. He stepped
forward, and called him by name, and touched his shoulder; but he
would not move: so he took the candle and looked at him. I
thought there was something wrong as he set down the light; and
seizing the children each by an arm, whispered them to 'frame up-
stairs, and make little din - they might pray alone that evening -
he had summut to do.'

'I shall bid father good-night first,' said Catherine, putting her
arms round his neck, before we could hinder her. The poor thing
discovered her loss directly - she screamed out - 'Oh, he's dead,
Heathcliff! he's dead!' And they both set up a heart-breaking cry.

I joined my wail to theirs, loud and bitter; but Joseph asked what
we could be thinking of to roar in that way over a saint in heaven.
He told me to put on my cloak and run to Gimmerton for the doctor
and the parson. I could not guess the use that either would be of,
then. However, I went, through wind and rain, and brought one, the
doctor, back with me; the other said he would come in the morning.
Leaving Joseph to explain matters, I ran to the children's room:
their door was ajar, I saw they had never lain down, though it was