The rainy night had ushered in a misty morning--half frost, half drizzle--and temporary brooks crossed our path--gurgling from the uplands.

My feet were thoroughly wetted; I was cross and low; exactly the humour suited for making the most of these disagreeable things.

We entered the farm-house by the kitchen way, to ascertain whether Mr.
Heathcliff were really absent: because I put slight faith in his own affirmation.
Joseph seemed sitting in a sort of elysium alone, beside a roaring fire; a quart of ale on the table near him, bristling with large pieces of toasted oat-cake; and his black, short pipe in his mouth.

Catherine ran to the hearth to warm herself.

I asked if the master was in?
My question remained so long unanswered, that I thought the old man had grown deaf, and repeated it louder.
'Na--ay!' he snarled, or rather screamed through his nose.