How ill you do look!' Catherine surveyed him with grief and astonishment: she changed the ejaculation of joy on her lips to one of alarm; and the congratulation on their long-postponed meeting to an anxious inquiry, whether he were worse than usual?
'No--better--better!' he panted, trembling, and retaining her hand as if he needed its support, while his large blue eyes wandered timidly over her; the hollowness round them transforming to haggard wildness the languid expression they once possessed.
'But you have been worse,' persisted his cousin; 'worse than when I saw you last; you are thinner, and--' 'I'm tired,' he interrupted, hurriedly.

'It is too hot for walking, let us rest here.

And, in the morning, I often feel sick--papa says I grow so fast.' Badly satisfied, Cathy sat down, and he reclined beside her.
'This is something like your paradise,' said she, making an effort at cheerfulness.

'You recollect the two days we agreed to spend in the place and way each thought pleasantest?
This is nearly yours, only there are clouds; but then they are so soft and mellow: it is nicer than sunshine.

Next week, if you can, we'll ride down to the Grange Park, and try mine.' Linton did not appear to remember what she talked of and he had evidently great difficulty in sustaining any kind of conversation.