Hareton Earnshaw--that is, Miss Cathy's other cousin, and so yours in a manner--will show you all the sweetest spots; and you can bring a book in fine weather, and make a green hollow your study; and, now and then, your uncle may join you in a walk: he does, frequently, walk out on the hills.' 'And what is my father like ?' he asked.

'Is he as young and handsome as uncle ?' 'He's as young,' said I; 'but he has black hair and eyes, and looks sterner; and he is taller and bigger altogether.

He'll not seem to you so gentle and kind at first, perhaps, because it is not his way: still, mind you, be frank and cordial with him; and naturally he'll be fonder of you than any uncle, for you are his own.' 'Black hair and eyes!' mused Linton.

'I can't fancy him.

Then I am not like him, am I ?' 'Not much,' I answered: not a morsel, I thought, surveying with regret the white complexion and slim frame of my companion, and his large languid eyes--his mother's eyes, save that, unless a morbid touchiness kindled them a moment, they had not a vestige of her sparkling spirit.
'How strange that he should never come to see mamma and me!' he murmured.
'Has he ever seen me?
If he has, I must have been a baby.