'No,' I said, half smiling. 'You are the proper person to ask me.'
She flung the tea back, spoon and all, and resumed her chair in a
pet; her forehead corrugated, and her red under-lip pushed out,
like a child's ready to cry.
Meanwhile, the young man had slung on to his person a decidedly
shabby upper garment, and, erecting himself before the blaze,
looked down on me from the corner of his eyes, for all the world as
if there were some mortal feud unavenged between us. I began to
doubt whether he were a servant or not: his dress and speech were
both rude, entirely devoid of the superiority observable in Mr. and
Mrs. Heathcliff; his thick brown curls were rough and uncultivated,
his whiskers encroached bearishly over his cheeks, and his hands
were embrowned like those of a common labourer: still his bearing
was free, almost haughty, and he showed none of a domestic's
assiduity in attending on the lady of the house. In the absence of
clear proofs of his condition, I deemed it best to abstain from
noticing his curious conduct; and, five minutes afterwards, the
entrance of Heathcliff relieved me, in some measure, from my
uncomfortable state.
|