right to kiss her, if she chooses; and you have no right to object. I am not YOUR husband: YOU needn’t be jealous of me!’

‘I’m not jealous of you,’ replied the mistress; ‘I’m jealous for you. Clear your face: you sha’n’t scowl at me! If you like Isabella, you shall marry her. But do you like her? Tell the truth, Heathcliff! There, you won’t answer. I’m certain you don’t.’

‘And would Mr. Linton approve of his sister marrying that man?’ I inquired.

‘Mr. Linton should approve,’ returned my lady, decisively.

‘He might spare himself the trouble,’ said Heathcliff: ‘I could do as well without his approbation.