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`I wish she felt as I do,' he replied: `spiteful, cruel thing! Hareton never touches me: he never struck me in his life. And I was better today: and there--` his voice died in a whimper.
`I didn't strike you!' muttered Cathy, chewing her lip to prevent another burst of emotion.
He sighed and moaned like one under great suffering, and kept it up for a quarter of an hour; on purpose to distress his cousin apparently, for whenever he caught a stifled sob from her he put renewed pain and pathos into the inflections of his voice.
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`I'm sorry I hurt you, Linton,' she said at length, racked beyond endurance. `But I couldn't have been hurt by that little push, and I had no idea that you could, either: you're not much, are you, Linton? Don't let me go home thinking I've done you harm. Answer! speak to me.'
`I can't speak to you,' he murmured; `you've hurt me so, that I shall lie awake all night choking with this cough. If you had it you'd know what it was; but you'll be comfortably asleep while I'm in agony, and nobody near me. I wonder how you would like to pass those fearful nights!' And he began to wail aloud, for very pity of himself.