The poor thing was finally got off, with several delusive assurances that his absence should be short: that Mr.Edgar and Cathy would visit him, and other promises, equally ill-founded, which I invented and reiterated at intervals throughout the way.

The pure heather-scented air, the bright sunshine, and the gentle canter of Minny, relieved his despondency after a while.

He began to put questions concerning his new home, and its inhabitants, with greater interest and liveliness.
'Is Wuthering Heights as pleasant a place as Thrushcross Grange ?' he inquired, turning to take a last glance into the valley, whence a light mist mounted and formed a fleecy cloud on the skirts of the blue.
'It is not so buried in trees,' I replied, 'and it is not quite so large, but you can see the country beautifully all round; and the air is healthier for you--fresher and drier.

You will, perhaps, think the building old and dark at first; though it is a respectable house: the next best in the neighbourhood.

And you will have such nice rambles on the moors.