“Let me go to bed, then,” answered the boy, shrinking from Catherine’s salute; and he put his fingers to remove incipient tears.

“Come, come, there’s a good child,” I whispered, leading him in. “You’ll make her weep too⁠—see how sorry she is for you!”

I do not know whether it was sorrow for him, but his cousin put on as sad a countenance as himself, and returned to her father. All three entered, and mounted to the library, where tea was laid ready. I proceeded to remove Linton’s cap and mantle, and placed him on a chair by the table; but he was no sooner seated than he began to cry afresh. My master inquired what was the matter.

“I can’t sit on a chair,” sobbed the boy.

“Go to the sofa, then, and Ellen shall bring you some tea,” answered his uncle patiently.